


With the Head of a Wolf

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Robin Hood - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Robin Hood Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attraction, Challenges, Crimes & Criminals, Declarations Of Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Feels, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Forbidden Love, Frostiron Bingo Round 1, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Identity Reveal, Letters, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Mutual Pining, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Royalty, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Understanding, Vigilante
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-12-14 09:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 54,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21013340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: The kingdom’s most infamous outlaw robs from the rich and gives to the poor– and Prince Loki is determined to be the one to catch him.





	1. Warrant

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will complete my secret challenge for the Frostiron Bingo- most chapters will fill a new square.  
  
I uh, might be having too much fun with this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square G2**— _Setting: Castle._

When Thor called together a council meeting, Loki almost considered staying in his bed.

It wasn’t that he wanted to shirk his duties– he knew more than anyone how important it was to turn up to the meetings in a timely manner, to follow the castle protocol and to conduct himself in the proper manner of a prince at all times. (And yes, when he says he knows better than anyone, what he really means is that he knows better than _Thor._) But he had been up late at night completing paperwork to ensure that the quarter’s taxes had all been properly counted, and had fallen asleep with his head on his desk– and that combined with the early wakeup call had left him with a such a raging headache that he could barely cope to _think_, let alone deal with a room of arguing imbeciles who wouldn’t even be able to agree on the proper route to transport the castle’s share of the village grain stores if failure meant their death.

But then the messenger told him _why_ Thor had called the meeting, and Loki was pulling on his formal clothing in moments.

_The Hood._

Asgard’s most infamous criminal had been striking fear into the hearts of the upper class for months now, though rumour was that he had been around for far longer than that. He had begun small, taking only cheap trinkets, coin, or pieces of food– things that were easily missed. But as time passed without him being caught, he had begun to grow bold, taking family heirlooms, pieces of jewellery worth more money than a farmer would make in their lifetime, and even items from the royal family themselves.

Most of the court were furious, and were calling for the Hood’s head with the kind of viciousness that belonged more in an illegal fighting pit than in the gilded halls of the castle.

But Loki was not _most_ of the court. He was the younger prince, often overlooked by all the courtiers and advisors, yet far shrewder than any of them. He stood in Thor’s shadow, but– in his eye, that only gave him a better view of all those who stood out in the light.

And whenever he heard more about the wily thief’s exploits?

Well, now. Loki only ever felt _impressed_.

Most of the courtiers believed the Hood to merely be a common criminal, but Loki was more than _sure_ that they had to be a member of the court themselves. There was too much evidence to believe anything to contrary.

After all, whoever it was– they had to be able to move around the castle without even being noticed, and that meant that they had to have not only access, but a good knowledge of the place as well. It could have been one of the servants, but… Loki doubted it, because not only had they all been vetted for their loyalty, but the punishment for a servant taking something that was not theirs would be the noose. None of them would be willing to take such a risk, even for riches such as what the Hood had managed to steal.

No, the Hood _had_ to be a member of the court, someone who was ambitious, perhaps, trying to collect the means to buy their way through the ranks. And to do so by taking the wealth of their competitors was a rather _genius_ move that Loki had to applaud.

Of course, the notion that they must be a member of the court made it even _more_ of an interesting puzzle, because that meant that they were getting away with it from right underneath everyone else’s noses. Perhaps they would even be at the meeting, complaining about the thief with all the others even as they planned to take their coin.

And… there had never been a puzzle that Loki could leave unsolved.

So, yes. Loki was… _intrigued_ by the Hood, and he certainly wanted to be the one to _catch_ him. If there was a chance of any new information, then Loki was most definitely going to be there to hear it, tired or not.

Still, he almost regretted the decision when he walked into the council chamber to find them all already shouting at each other at the top of their voices, the noise only adding to Loki’s already pounding headache.

But, he remained a prince of the Kingdom of Asgard, and even if he felt like his head was about to split open there was still not a chance in _hel_ that he was going to allow any of them to see him falter. So he held his head high and kept his shoulders back, and he swept into the room with the kind of proud presence that his mother had taught him to exude.

The noise continued of course– no matter how imposing Loki could be, the others only took notice if he began to _threaten_. The difference in demeanour was very subtle, but even these loud buffoons were capable of catching on to it now and again.

So it was that when Loki leaned forward, his hands clasped on top of the table and his eyes sparking slightly with the rare power of seiðr that flowed through his veins, the noise in the room quickly faded to just a low murmur– and then to silence.

“Thank you,” he said, his tone pleasant but in that way he _knew_ would send something of a shiver down the others’ spines. “Now. May we please _calmly_ begin this council meeting?”

There were a couple of low murmurs, but no one spoke up in protest as they settled back down into their chairs.

Thor cleared his throat, his gaze flicking to Loki gratefully for a moment before he addressed the room as a whole. “As I was _saying,”_ he started, “The Hood struck again last night.” Thor paused there, as if he were expecting someone to interrupt– and Loki guessed that was as far as Thor had managed to get before the arguments had sparked up earlier. But when no interruption followed, Thor squared his shoulders and continued. “He has grown bolder than ever before, and has stolen something that is of far greater worth than any trinket—”

“He stole my _sword,”_ Sif interrupted with a snarl, slamming both of her hands down on the table and rising from her chair. “This cannot go unpunished!”

Loki repressed his smile with skill cultivated over a lifetime of practice. He knew, of course, why Sif was so upset– for a warrior to lose their sword was akin to announcing their own incompetence. Once again, Loki had to applaud the Hood’s talent, because Sif was one of the most deadly people in the kingdom – and probably the neighbouring kingdoms as well, to be honest – and yet, he had managed to steal her most precious possession.

You see, Sif was the only female warrior in the history of Asgard’s royal army, and she had only become so after defeating Thor in a public tourney while in disguise. She, much like Loki, had been met with disdain at every turn just because of who she was– but rather than bear it as Loki did, she chose to fight every single person who tried to stand in her way.

It was more than likely that losing her sword would set her up for an incredible amount of ridicule as those who had never believed her worthy of wearing the royal crest on her armour would see this as a confirmation of her unsuitability. And honestly, Loki was rather surprised that she had even announced it– but then again, it could work out in her favour, for at least this way she could more easily blame the loss on the malicious actions of a criminal rather than a failing of her own.

“What more would you have us do?” Loki asked. “The Einherjar have already declared catching him to be of the highest priority, and there is already a bounty on his head.”

“We should raise it.”

Loki arched a brow as he turned to face the lord who had spoken. It wasn’t someone who Loki had paid much attention to before, though Loki had seen him in passing– as well as in meetings such as these. He was handsome, and younger than most of the others– if Loki recalled who he was correctly (and of course, he always did) then the man’s parents had both died in a carriage accident some years before, meaning that he had inherited their property and title before he had even reached his twentieth year.

Due to his age, he was another who had faced scorn from others who were jealous of his ability to thrive despite not fitting into the usual mould. But unlike Sif and Loki he had been able to cast it away quickly with clever insights that betrayed his intellect, as well as the fact that he wasn’t half bad with a sword– and now, he was respected as a more than capable member of the council.

But still, he was never the most outspoken, and as such Loki had never bothered to pay him much attention– he was far too busy to remember every detail of every lord on the council. But he _had_ spent much of his childhood memorising the family trees of all Asgard’s lords and ladies, so there was, at least, one thing he could be sure of. 

“Stark, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, your highness,” Stark said, lowering his head slightly in a show of respect that Loki didn’t often receive from the Lords of Asgard. Loki considered that for a moment, remembering that Stark was clever and wondering whether he truly meant it as simple deference, or if it was meant to make Loki feel more inclined to listen to him.

“You would have us raise the bounty on the Hood?” Loki asked.

“Well… yes,” Stark replied, tilting his head. “It has been said that the Hood must be getting help to be able to disappear so well– if that is the case, then increasing the bounty will mean that those assisting him will have more to gain by giving him up than by keeping him hidden.”

Loki leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the table. “And where do you propose this money comes from?” he asked. “The current reward is already higher than for any other criminal in Asgard’s history.”

“The castle has funds,” Stark said, matching Loki’s pose with a gleam in his eye. “Enough for this, at any rate. The ordinary person would salivate over even a meagre amount, let alone what you already have on those wanted posters. But if you publicly announce that you’re going to _increase_ it, say, by two pounds a week? Then they won’t be able to throw information at you fast enough.”

“Would increasing the bounty each week not make people more willing to _wait_ before attacking the thief?” Thor asked curiously.

“Not… if it is made clear that the bounty will go only to _one_ person,” Loki mused, tilting his head curiously as he considered Stark in a new light. “Then they will not be inclined to wait, lest anyone else take the prize before they do.”

“And the increasing price will keep the bounty on their minds,” Stark agreed. “It won’t just be a number on a broadsheet, because they will want to keep track of how high it gets. You won’t _have_ to look for the Hood– the people will do it for you.”

Loki smirked at that. It truly was a clever plan, and if all went well, then they would have information on the Hood without hardly needing to lift a finger.

But… it seemed that he was the only one in the council who agreed, for most of the others were wearing disgruntled expressions not dissimilar to those worn by children who had been told that they must complete their tutoring before playing outside.

It was as if the plan would steal all of their _fun_– and Loki could have predicted what would happen next almost exactly verbatim.

“That will work as a back-up plan,” Sif said. “But I will be among those searching for the Hood. I will not allow mere peasants to have the honour of taking his freedom from him, when that honour should be mine.”

“Or mine,” announced Tyr, who had been robbed on _two_ separate occasions.

That opened the floodgates, and many others who had been wronged by the Hood – for there were many on the council – began to speak up in support as well. And, unsurprisingly, it was not long before Thor was standing and spreading his hands to give them all what they wanted.

“We all want a chance at catching the Hood, and I will not deny you,” Thor said firmly. “But my brother’s plan also has merit. So I shall announce the increase of the bounty this morning– and also the beginning of a renewed effort to hunt down and arrest the Hood!”

Thor’s proclamation was met with loud agreement from the majority of the council in the form of an approving roar, but Loki could only sigh. He supposed that he would have a lot more paperwork to do that morning– to arrange the funds for the bounty, as well as the reissued warrant, _and_ the legalities surrounding the institution of _caput gerat lupinum, _since it seemed that Thor had just declared war on the Hood.

It was a lot of work, and he sighed as he realised that he would likely not get the chance for any more rest that day. You know, Loki had actually been proud when his father, King Odin, had handed some of these important duties to Loki to perform. He had felt like he was being _trusted_. Now, Loki couldn’t help but wonder if Odin hadn’t just given him this job because no one else wanted it.

Loki was still thinking on the particulars and trying to drown out the noise when Thor leaned over him with an expectant grin.

“Brother, will you join the hunt with us?”

“I have a lot of work to do, Thor,” Loki said with a placating smile. “Don’t worry about me. You go on your hunt– I shall help father keep the kingdom running while you’re having fun.”

Thor grinned at that, missing the dryness of Loki’s tone entirely. “Good man,” he said, clapping Loki on the shoulder. “I shall keep you updated on our progress.”

Loki watched Thor and the rest of the council file out of the doors with a pinched expression, because… well. If he were being totally honest with himself, Loki didn’t want Thor to catch the Hood.

Not because he thought that what the Hood was doing was in any way defendable– no matter how amusing or clever his exploits might be, he was still a _criminal_, and it was Loki’s duty to make sure that his people were safe. No matter how impressed or intrigued he was, he _knew_ that the Hood needed to be caught.

No, he didn’t hope for Thor’s ill luck because he wanted the Hood to go free.

The thief had managed to elude everyone thus far. They knew hardly anything about his character, save that he had to be clever and talented and incredibly well trained– but whatever else he was, one thing was certain—

The Hood was a _challenge_, and in the face of the way that everyone treated him, there was no way that Loki was going to let this one pass him by. For once, there was a chance to show them all what he was capable of– and perhaps, at the same time, he could have some fun solving the mystery that had been irking him for months.

So you see… the simple truth of the matter was that Loki hoped Thor would fail, because he wanted to catch the Hood _himself_.

—|x|—

It was almost amusing, watching Thor’s efforts.

Asgard’s greatest warrior started his search for Asgard’s greatest thief in the lower town, amongst the peasants who stared in shock at the prince who had come down from his castle to mingle in their midst.

Thor, like all of the other nobles, did not even consider that the Hood could be someone like _them_. They didn’t see the evidence, and instead let their bias rule their judgement.

Loki watched from afar, and tried to not to let his entertainment show. He gave encouraging comments wherever necessary, and smiled whenever Thor or Sif or any of the others on their ‘hunting’ party claimed that they were getting close, or that just one more piece of information would be enough to finally catch the elusive thief. He even gave his assistance by attending some of the interrogations and using his seiðr to ensure that none of the witnesses or suspects were lying– and yet still, Thor found nothing.

Meanwhile, Loki conducted his _own_ beginnings of an investigation, using the suspicions he had already formed out of curiosity, and then building upon them.

After all, _he_ already knew that the thief was a member of court– if not someone on the council, then certainly one of the nobles who spent much of their time in the castle. And when Thor was inundated with peasants rattling off information they were _sure_ would lead to the Hood in the hopes of getting even a sniff of the reward in return, it was all Loki could do to sit back and watch with a hidden smile. ood Hood in theo

Because of course, _if_ the Hood did have help in the lower town, then he likely would have chosen his conspirators well– and maybe he was even paying them to ensure their silence. When the bounty grew higher than whatever the Hood could offer, well, perhaps then the peasants loyal to the Hood would see the benefit of betraying him. But they had a long way to go until then.

No, while the bounty had been a good idea and raising it certainly kept the public eye on the thief, Loki knew that he was going to have to take a different approach– one that was both more direct than merely waiting for the bounty to be sufficient bait, and yet more subtle than Thor’s obvious blundering.

So Loki kept his head low, and continued on with observing– just as he had for months before.

He made quiet inquiries about different nobles’ whereabouts on the nights when the Hood was reported as being active, and he tracked the locations of the thefts with hopes of finding a pattern. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be– it appeared that the thief stole more opportunistically than by any kind of predetermined plan, which – while far more risky on the thief’s side of things – only meant that unless they caught him in the act, he would be all the more difficult to trap. That, however, only made the challenge greater– and Loki all the more determined to see it through for the sake of solving the puzzle and proving himself more capable than anyone else believed.

But then, one evening, something occurred which made Loki’s search far more _personal_ in nature.

Loki had been up late, deciding to do his work in the castle library rather than in his rooms– since the hour meant that he would not be disturbed regardless, and he was far less likely to fall asleep when he wasn’t in the comfort of his own quarters. It also meant that he had access to any book that he might need, and thus did not need to waste the energy it would take to summon them with his seiðr. He could simply stand from his desk, go to a shelf, and be back with a book in minutes.

And damn the person who decided that records were necessary– Loki had been at it for _hours_. And the fact that the Hood had managed to get his hands on the latest collection of taxes didn’t help at all, since they could hardly demand more when the peasants had already paid their share– and yet the castle now didn’t have the money. It meant that they wouldn’t be able to afford the feast that Odin had been planning to throw in honour of the Prince of Alfheim who would be arriving from the neighbouring kingdom the following week to renew their treaty. Or, rather– they _would_ be able to afford the feast, because Odin had decreed that it _must_ happen, and Asgard must put on a show. That meant it was down to Loki to find the funds somewhere else, or somehow come up with them from another source – which _should_ be easy, considering how much money Asgard had, except that it was all carefully divided for various purposes. And Loki had already only just run through all the rings of finding as much spare capital as he could to be able to raise the bounty on the Hood.

You know what?

_Damn_ the Hood.

More problems meant more paperwork, and Loki felt about ready to wring the Hood’s neck for causing them when he heard someone sit beside him at the table.

“I’m busy,” he said, too tired to waste time and energy on politeness when he still had a pile of parchment left to sort through, and a meeting at dawn to discuss all of this with his father– and, by the light beginning to stream through the window, that meant that he did not have much time left at _all_.

“I can see that. I was going to ask if there was anything I could do to help.”

Loki narrowed his eyes as he glanced up– and he was almost surprised to see Stark, for in his tired state, Loki had not recognised his voice. Since Stark was a member of the council, it was unlikely he was there to steal kingdom secrets, as he would be made privy to them soon enough. But it also meant that he should _know_ why Loki could not simply accept the assistance of any random person who happened to be walking through the castle library far too early in the morning.

So, he asked the necessary question without even attempting to use any tact.

“What are you doing?” 

“Helping,” the man stressed.

“No,” Loki replied, turning back to his documents with the intention of tuning Stark out entirely. It shouldn’t be hard, considering how exhausted he was.

“Look, I don’t need to read anything,” Stark continued. “I could just, help you organise everything, or start putting books back on the shelves or—”

“Why?” Loki’s voice was perhaps a little harsher than he meant it to be, but he couldn’t regret the tone– not even when Stark winced. _Stark_, after all, was the one in the wrong here. Couldn’t he see that Loki was too stressed to be dealing with the boot licking tendencies of Asgardian nobles trying to raise themselves in status?

Although, perhaps _that_ was a little harsh– thus far, Stark hadn’t given any indication that he was like all the others.

And perhaps Loki’s thoughts were echoed in his gaze, for Stark seemed to hesitate before choosing his reply.

“Because…” He swallowed.

“Because?” Loki prompted, arching a brow.

He wondered if Stark would tell him that he looked tired and stressed– likely the truth, but not a particularly tactful or polite thing to say. Somehow, despite the hour, Stark didn’t look even nearly exhausted– his eyes were as bright as ever, his face unlined and his hair and goatee as styled as it had been at the meeting several days before.

But… the answer that Stark ended up settling on was not one that Loki would have expected.

“Because I like to help people,” he said firmly. “And because right now, you look like you might appreciate some.”

The words didn’t imply that Loki looked like he needed help, or even that he could not complete his task by himself– and not for the first time, Loki could see how Stark had managed to acclimatise himself to the rigors of life as a noble in such a short amount of time.

It was that, perhaps, which softened his tone a little.

“I am almost finished,” Loki said– and given that he would need to begin moving regardless of how many documents he had left to sift through, it was not even a lie.

Stark’s smile was small but true, and for a moment Loki found himself struck by the oddness of someone actually _wanting_ to assist him. But the thought was easily shaken away.

Together, it did not take them long to clear the books that Loki had used from his desk, placing them in neat lines on a trolley for the librarian to re-shelve later that day. That done, Loki gathered up his papers and placed them all into his bag—

But then when Loki slung the bag over his shoulder, he realised that it was far lighter than it should have been. He paused, for a moment, wondering if it was his tiredness playing tricks– but surely if it were tiredness, the bag would have felt _heavier? _

Feeling a little concerned and knowing that he would not be able to rest his mind on the matter until he had checked for sure, Loki placed his bag back down on the table and began looking through it.

The papers were all there, of course, as was his spare set of quills and ink. There was a leather-bound journal that he used for noting down anything of interest – kept closed with a spell, of course – as well as a few other bits and pieces that he thought he might need to complete his work, such as—

Wait, where was—

_No._

Loki dug madly though the bag once again, and then again– even though he _knew_ that there was little point, that the search wouldn’t change the result no matter how much he hoped that it would. Stark was asking him something, but Loki hardly took any notice. He glanced on the floor, around the chairs and under the table– and then atop the desk itself, and _then_ with the books that they’d cleared onto the trolley. But no matter where he looked, no matter how many times he checked, the fact remained the same—

His spell book was _missing. _

When Loki finally paused, he did so with both of his hands pressing hard into the surface of the desk, his breathing heavier than it should have been, his shoulders slumped forward.

“Are you all right?” Stark seemed hesitant, and Loki looked up to turn his glare on him without a moment’s thought.

“No,” Loki replied heavily. “Someone has _stolen_ one of my books.”

It must have happened earlier in the night, likely when he had left his desk to collect a book from a shelf. Some might criticise him for leaving his bag unattended while he went into the shelves, but it was the _castle library_. This was Loki’s _home_. He should not have to constantly look over his shoulder in this place, waiting to be _robbed_.

His mind suddenly sharpened with adrenaline, and he went through a list of suspects– the top of the list obviously being the only other person Loki had seen in the library.

Oh, but that was more than unlikely. What, had Stark taken the book while Loki had been distracted, stashed it, and then come _back?_ Sure, the best place to hide a book would be _in_ the library, but…

There hadn’t been a need to stash it. Loki had only just noticed the theft now– Stark could have been in and out without any need to stay and _talk_.

No.

Loki did not think that Stark had done it, and… strangely enough, he didn’t think that the most obvious suspect had, either.

Because while the Hood would certainly be both audacious enough to steal something from a _prince_ in the dead of the night, and skilled enough to avoid Loki’s notice – or at least, more likely to be so than any of the others who usually walked the halls of the castle – this wasn’t entirely his style. At least, not insofar as what matched Loki’s observations. And so, unless the Hood had decided to change things around tonight…

Well, it wasn’t entirely impossible, but another option was still far more likely.

“I’m going to make sure they regret this day,” Loki hissed, baring his teeth.

“Who do you mean?” Stark asked, suddenly sounding wary. “Do you think the Hood did it?”

“The _Hood,”_ Loki groaned. “That man has caused me nothing but more problems these past few days, and I certainly would not be upset to see him swing at the end of a rope.” Well, not unless Thor had been the one to catch him, anyway. “But no, I don’t believe that he did this. That was a… very particular kind of book. And while it is worth rather a lot, he would not be able to sell it– and I am of the belief that he is clever enough to realise such a thing.”

Loki waited for Stark to scoff, to ask why he could not simply procure a new one. But instead of laughing like most probably would, Stark frowned.

“Why not?” he asked.

Loki shook his head, not wanting to give the answer. If Stark knew it was a spell book, then… well. Loki couldn’t hope that Stark would react differently to anyone else in that kind of situation.

While Thor and his friends were more than happy to accept Loki’s help when it was _useful_ to them, the very moment that they no longer needed it they would claim his seiðr to be mere trickery, a way of cheating in a fight and to skip out of doing ‘real’ work.

Loki wasn’t sure why, because the mockery was something he had been dealing with for his entire life, but… he didn’t really want to see that same look of aversion in Stark’s eyes.

But when Stark continued to wait in silence, Loki decided to tell a half truth. Enough to cast away Stark’s curiosity without lying, but not enough for him to realise the entirety of the matter.

“My mother gave it to me,” Loki replied, deflating a little. “I learned a lot from it when I was younger, and I still use it regularly.”

Of course, Loki had read the tattered thing so many times that he could almost recite it by heart, but he continued to scribble notes in the margins when he thought of something new, and many of the spells inside were those he used on a day to day basis.

To lose it was devastating, and… well, when he found the thief? What Thor had planned for the Hood would look like child’s play compared to Loki’s retribution.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that the simplicity of Loki’s answer hadn’t been enough to satisfy Stark’s curiosity at all.

“Why would anyone steal such a thing?” Stark asked, his frown deepening. The question was spoken in a tone which suggested that it was meant to be rhetoric, but Loki caught himself answering with a wry smile.

“It does not surprise me,” he said. “However, I would be willing to gamble that it was not stolen for money, or for its contents.”

From his reply, it would seem that Stark caught on immediately– though the softening of his expression didn’t make much sense.

“Not everyone hates you, you know?”

“What an interesting thing to say,” Loki commented. “Not _everyone_ hates me. That’s almost similar to telling a person that not everyone thinks they look entirely revolting.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Loki agreed kindly. “However, it is still truer than anything else that you could have said.” He let out a sigh, and began to move away from the table. “I am aware that not everyone hates me, Stark. But I also know that only very few actually like me.”

Stark looked like he might have been about to deny that fact, but Loki turned away and spoke before he had to listen to another lie.

“There is no need to fret. I shall find out who did this, and they will be punished accordingly.”

Stark frowned. “By yourself? Isn’t this more a job for the guards—”

“I am more than capable of fixing my own problems,” Loki snapped, turning back with yet another harsh glare.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not,” Stark said, holding up his hands. “I just meant that maybe you shouldn’t _have_ to?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Loki hissed. “I am _more capable_ than any of the guards. I will be the one to find the culprit and retrieve my book, just as I will be the one to catch the Hood, because it is clear that no one else in this castle possesses the ability to use their eyes and _see_ what is right in front of them.”

Stark was looking wary again, though it was clear that he was trying to hide the reaction. And of course Stark was just as afraid of Loki as any of the others, afraid that he would lash out with his seiðr in his anger and turn into an unstoppable force like the evil wizards in fairy tales told to children.

His estimation of the other man beginning to lower, Loki turned away once more.

“Stay out of my way,” he said.

“Loki, wait—”

“I know that you are relatively new to court, but you must still be aware that is not the proper form of address,” Loki hissed. “Good day, _Stark.”_

As he turned and strode away, Loki wondered if he hadn’t been a little too punitive. But he couldn’t believe the _audacity_ of that– that _commoner_, barely a lord for a handful of years and already thinking that he could refer to Loki by name.

Perhaps on another day Loki might have been able to let it slide, but he was tired, he was stressed, and he had just been robbed– and he did not have the _patience_ for ambitious nobles who only pretended to enjoy his company so that they could win his favour.

—|x|—

The meeting with King Odin was, of course, exhausting.

Odin wished to know why Loki was taking so much time to sort through the budget, why he hadn’t yet been able to find the funds for the planned feast. And when Loki informed him of the bounty that had been placed on the Hood, Odin demanded to know why the thief had yet to be caught.

“We are doing all we can,” Loki tried. “Thor has organised a team to track him down, and has been interrogating suspects from the lower town. The bounty will also hopefully flush out any allies that he has among the common folk—”

“I do not need to hear of your plans,” Odin said. “I wish to see that you are getting things _done_. When will you be sure of your ability to redistribute our coin?”

“I am already sure, father,” Loki said, knowing that was the only acceptable answer he could give– and it was close enough to the truth. He would be able to find the money _somewhere_, even if he needed to step on a few toes to do it.

“Good,” Odin said. “Then see it done.”

They spoke some more on the logistics of the taxes and the need to think of more protections for the collectors while the Hood was still at large– but any tentative suggestion of Loki’s to use a collection as a trap was immediately shot down. He grit his teeth through the conversation, and at the end of it he left with a headache and a plan to lie down for a while before going back to the paperwork—

But when he arrived in his quarters, it was to find that things were not as he had left them the evening before, and he was instantly on his guard. There was something _wrong_, and it took Loki a moment to work out what, his instincts immediately telling him that he had likely been robbed again—

But rather than something missing, there was an item on his desk that had not been there when he had left.

Loki stared, and stepped closer with a heavy dose of caution, one hand held slightly out from his side and ready to retrieve a dagger from the pocket dimension he liked to keep them in. But when he recognised the item sitting on the desk near his balcony, he nearly had to take a step back in surprise.

It was his spell book, the one that had been stolen from the library. 

That didn’t… well, Loki didn’t _understand_.

Whoever had stolen it had to have been skilled, yes, to have taken it from right under Loki’s nose. But this… this was on a completely different level entirely.

The wards he had placed on his door had not been tripped, which meant that no one had entered that way. It would seem that the intruder had managed to get in through some other means, but the only other entrance to Loki’s quarters was… the balcony.

Loki lived in the wing of the castle that only the Royal Family and a few select servants had access to. Not only that, but his balcony was one of the highest, with nothing above it save the ridged roof which no one should be able to access. To have reached his quarters from the outside, the thief must have either accessed the roof from another point and then managed to make his way across it and down to Loki’s balcony without being noticed by any guards, or somehow climbed up from below.

Either option would require a kind of dexterity that most people would not be able to achieve, as well as a massive amount of courage and a stupidly dangerous disregard of risk.

So perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that Loki had already begun to deduce who might have been the culprit before he even _noticed_ what was sitting beside the book.

The first thing was a necklace. Small and silver with a ruby set into the pendant, and Loki immediately recognised it as a piece that Thor had commissioned for Sif’s birthday only a few weeks before. But the item that rested underneath it held more interest for Loki, and he pushed the necklace aside to pick it up with less caution than he probably should have.

The note was written on a small piece of heavy parchment– not the kind of thing that a peasant would ever be able to afford. The red ink also looked expensive, and though the hand it was written in was messy, the words themselves actually made the beginnings of a smile curve up the corners of Loki’s lips.

[_Heard you were looking for me. Good luck._]

Loki curled his hand around the note, the parchment crinkling between his fingers. He knew now _exactly _who had left it– really, there was only one person who it could be.

His first thought was that it was a taunt, that the Hood _had_ stolen the book after all and was using this as a way to threaten, to show Loki that tracking him down would only result in more trouble. But if that was the case, then also leaving Sif’s necklace made no sense at all. The only reason Loki could think of for that would be if the Hood found the book among Sif’s belongings, and had left it as an indication so that Loki would know it was she that had stolen from him.

And so, despite the fact that this proved the Hood could get into Loki’s room, despite the fact that the Hood knowing about the book in the first place meant that he knew a disturbing amount of detail that he certainly shouldn’t– Loki couldn’t help but be sure that this wasn’t a threat at all, nor even a taunt.

It was yet another _challenge_, a gauntlet thrown down on the ground and just waiting to be picked up.

And maybe it was because he was so very tired, because he was not thinking clearly– or because he was in such a mood that he _needed_ to do something reckless, something for himself. But regardless, it was without an ounce of hesitation that Loki plucked a quill from his desk and dipped it in his favourite dark green ink before writing out a message of his own on the back of the expensive parchment.

[_I hope you understand who it is that you’re dealing with._]

Loki felt a new surge of excitement burn through his veins as he brought a pinch of seiðr to the tips of his fingers, lacing it through the parchment and sending it on its way with a simple spell that would return the note back to the last person who had touched it. The Hood would receive Loki’s response, and… well. The board was set. All that was left was to see this game through to the very end…

And oh, but Loki could not help but predict that it would be fun indeed.


	2. Bounty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square N1**— _Trope: Secret Admirer._

It was some time later when Loki finally made his way back out of his quarters, having collapsed on his bed not long after he had sent off the note. Sleep was elusive, for even as exhausted as he was, his mind was mess with the possibilities of who the Hood might be and what he might want. But he managed to doze for a while, and by the time he pulled himself back up from his bed the sun was high in the sky.

He cleaned himself up a little before heading down to the Hall, finding that breakfast was well and truly over and those that were in attendance had already begun an early lunch. He collected himself some food and went to sit at a bench– but he had yet to even take a single bite when a ruckus at the door interrupted the calm tranquillity of the near-empty Hall.

It was Thor and his friends, almost the whole ‘hunting’ party, storming into the Hall and demanding drinks of the servants despite the fact that it was not yet noon.

Loki kept his head down, hoping that he wouldn’t be noticed– but, unfortunately, Thor sat down right beside Loki and the others followed suit. It certainly didn’t help Loki’s headache, and every loud, angry word felt like a hammer on an anvil, but it at least meant that he quickly came to realise exactly what had occurred.

Sif had been robbed yet again by the Hood, and this time in broad daylight no less.

She readily agreed when Thor tried to comfort her by saying that this theft was at least less than the last, since nothing had been taken which was of equal value to her sword– which, of course, they still had yet to recover. She had lost some jewellery and some other trinkets that she kept in her room, many items of worth but none that would cost her anything more than money.

Well, perhaps also a small bit of pride.

Sif was chomping at the bit to take down the Hood, and was demanding that they raise the bounty once again. Thor agreed, and then turned to Loki to ask him how much he thought they should raise it by. But the bounty had already increased by two pounds since the original announcement, and Loki, well… he wasn’t entirely sure that they were going to be able to manage it.

“I don’t think that is a viable option right now, not unless we ask some of the other nobles to fund it,” Loki said carefully. “I agree that raising the bounty is a good idea, as I said in the council meeting the other day– but with the feast next week, we do not have the money—”

“Do not say things like that, Loki,” Thor said. “We are Asgard. We have plenty of money, you merely need to find it in the treasury—”

“The money in the treasury is all sorted and accounted for. Unless you wish to take the cost out of your own allowance, brother?” Loki asked, arching a brow. “Or perhaps out of our food budget? Or out of wages for the castle maintenance staff, or the servants– whom we _do_ need to pay, before you suggest anything to contrary, lest we have a peasant uprising on our hands. Or perhaps you would have me take the funds from supplying our soldiers with provisions, or maybe you would rather I take the funds from those that are going to be used to decorate the streets so that the Prince of Alfheim continues to believe that we are the richest kingdom—”

“We _are_ the richest kingdom,” Thor cut in. “And once we have caught the Hood, all of these problems will go away.”

“I’m sure the Hood would be greatly pleased to hear that he has almost singlehandedly brought us to our knees,” Loki muttered. He heard a huff of laughter behind him at that– but when he turned to see who it was, Loki almost groaned in annoyance.

Didn’t Stark have a home of his own to go back to? Why was he constantly hanging around in the castle?

“We shall raise taxes, then,” Thor said, barely sparing Stark a glance. “It is the best choice.”

Loki sighed frustratedly at that, and stared down into his food in the effort not to roll his eyes. In theory, raising taxes _would_ work, but it would also make the common people dissatisfied, which was something they could not afford with guests on the way. And of course, that would still rely on them being able to keep the money out of the thief’s hands.

“What if you didn’t have a bounty on the Hood?” Stark asked, still not taking a seat. “The reward is currently at seven pounds, is it not? Would using the funds set aside for that be enough to replace the taxes that you lost?”

“I will not have the Hood win _twice_ over this,” Thor snapped before Loki even had a chance to reply. “I will not take down his bounty as a result of his crime. It will only encourage him to steal more.”

“I was not going to suggest that you take it away entirely—”

“I should hope not,” Sif cut in, her previous anger still evident in her tone. “Since you are the one who suggested that we increase the bounty in the first place.”

“So I was,” Stark agreed. “And I still believe that the bounty is a good way to go.”

“Then what _are_ you suggesting?” Thor asked.

But rather than answering Thor’s question, Stark’s gaze landed on Loki instead.

“Prince Loki?” Stark asked. “I know you are the one who has been sorting through the castle finances during these troubling times.”

Being addressed directly was frustrating, because it was both something that Loki appreciated and yet also terribly uncouth. And besides– Loki was still not entirely happy with Stark, some of his earlier annoyance lingering. Speaking to Loki over Thor was not going to win Stark any favours with the elder prince, and Loki wasn’t going to let it win _him_ over, either.

Still, Loki knew that Stark was clever– and if he had a solution, then Loki was not going to let his pride get in the way of solving a problem.

“Moving those seven pounds within our budget would certainly solve several problems,” Loki answered, not even needing to consider the matter– he’d spent most of the night thinking on it, after all.

“Then raise the bounty on the Hood to ten pounds,” Stark said, “and I will front it personally. You can then use the seven pounds to replace the taxes that the Hood stole without impacting any other area of your budget.”

Loki clenched his jaw, hating that fact Stark was actually right. Loki had said himself that the only way to solve this would be asking the nobles to pitch in some of their own money, and this way, they could continue to increase the bounty without any loss to the preparations for the feast.

The Royal Family had more money than all of the nobles combined, but they had a whole kingdom to run, whereas the nobles had to worry only about their own household and the peasants that fell under their purview. In instances such as these, the Crown _needed_ the noble’s help– but usually, the nobles were not so openly eager to give it.

Thor put voice to the question that was likely running through all of their minds, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.

“And why would you offer such a thing?” Thor asked. “What is it that you will be expecting in return?”

The corners of Stark’s lips turned up slightly, and Loki found himself narrowing his own eyes.

_I like to help people._

Yeah, right. If Stark was doing this purely out of the goodness of his heart, then Loki would eat his own bathrobe.

“If the Hood isn’t caught, or if he is captured by castle guards or by the hunting party, then I won’t have to lose a penny,” Stark pointed out. “And if he is, then, what it will cost me will likely be only a portion of what we all stand to lose if the Hood remains at large. I want him caught as much as any man, and if this will help to make him so, then I will offer any number of riches.”

Stark’s words became a little targeted at the end there, but all of the others seemed to miss his barb for what it was.

Both Loki and Stark knew that Thor and his friends weren’t accomplishing anything by riding around the town and threatening the common folk, whereas Loki still agreed that raising the bounty might have something of an effect– and by offering his own money, Stark would likely end up contributing more to the effort than any of the others.

Once again, Stark managed the frustrating task of making Loki irritated and impressed all at the same time. And Loki couldn’t help but be grateful because this _would_ solve all of his current problems, and yet…

Stark just riled him up like almost no one else could ever manage.

Perhaps it was the fact that Loki was once again relying on the help of others rather than finding a solution on his own. Perhaps it was that Stark’s annoyingly charming smile made Loki want to take his dagger and make it so that Stark wouldn’t ever want to smile again.

“We accept your gracious offer,” Loki said, and only practice allowed him to speak without gritting his teeth.

“Then, here,” Stark said, digging into a pocket of his coat and pulling out a heavy pouch. It was large enough to fill his whole hand, and the sound of it made clear what was inside. “This isn’t all of it, but I’ll bring you the rest tomorrow.”

“I thought you said you were going to hold on to it until the time came for it to be distributed,” Loki said, arching a brow– and he didn’t take the coin immediately. After all, sometimes looking the gift horse in the mouth was the wiser option, for you didn’t want to be saddled with something that would cost you more than you gained.

“I was,” Stark agreed. “But I imagine you would appreciate knowing that I cannot back out on my offer. And when the Hood is caught, you will either be able to give it to the proper party, or hand it back to me.”

Interesting, that Stark said _when_ and not if. Loki supposed he was grateful for some level of faith, at least, even if it had come from Anthony Stark of all people.

And without any further questioning, Loki reached out to take the heavy bag from Stark’s hand.

“It is good to see others just as invested in catching the Hood as we are,” Sif commented from her spot on the bench where she had been watching the proceedings. “Thank you.”

“I think the whole kingdom is up in arms, my lady,” Stark said, inclining his head slightly. “The Hood is nothing more than a criminal, and I know that we will catch him eventually. It is only a matter of time.”

Sif grinned at that– but Stark, it seemed, was far from done.

“And I must say, it is a pleasure to speak with you again, Lady Sif,” he continued. “I did not have the chance to do so in the library last night– when I saw you leaving, you appeared to be in something of a hurry.”

Sif’s grin faltered. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “It is always a pleasure to speak with you as well, Lord Stark.”

She didn’t respond at all to the comment about her being in the library, and Loki watched with sharp eyes as she instead turned to Fandral and began to discuss their next move against the Hood now that the bounty had been raised to twice the amount it had been at the beginning of the previous week. _Ten pounds_. Almost three years wages for a peasant worker– surely enough to begin to turn a few loyalties.

Loki should have been more pleased by that fact than he was, but… there was something else tugging at the edges of his mind.

Because Sif’s reaction was all the confirmation that Loki needed. She _had_ been in the library the night before, and she hadn’t wanted to admit it aloud. And Loki was willing to bet that just as the necklace he had found on his desk had been among the things she had lost to the Hood that morning– so too was Loki’s book. She must have been the one to take it the night before, not the Hood– and the Hood had stolen it _back._

It didn’t make much sense, but Loki filed it away in his mind along with all of the other titbits of information he knew about the Hood. There _had_ to be a reason for this.

Maybe the Hood had simply done it to get Loki’s attention. Maybe he had simply noticed it when he had been in Sif’s rooms, and – knowing that it couldn’t have been hers – had sensed an opportunity. But regardless, breaking into Loki’s quarters could not have been easy, and yet the Hood had done so to return some lost property, blame the real culprit, and to leave a note?

Either the Hood enjoyed the high of adrenaline far more than was healthy for him, or there was something else happening here entirely.

Loki had known that the Hood was growing bolder, but this was something else. This wasn’t just a challenge, it was the beginnings of game—

A game which Loki, to be honest, found himself more than a little intrigued by.

And so it was that even though he had only managed to eat a few bites of his lunch, he stood from his bench and smoothed down his clothes.

“I shall take my leave now,” he said, lifting up the bag of coin as an explanation. “It would seem that I have more paperwork to do.”

Thor nodded to that, and turned back to his friends, joining in on their latest plans. Of course, they wouldn’t have any luck – they never did – and Loki once again found himself trying not to roll his eyes as he began to walk toward the main doors.

“Prince Loki!”

Loki really, _truly_ had to refrain himself from doing something improper as he turned to look back at Stark with a patient expression.

“Yes?”

“Might I have a moment of your time?”

Loki wanted nothing more than to deny the request, but he didn’t have an excuse and therefore couldn’t without appearing impossibly rude. So he plastered a smile over his lips and waited for Stark to say his piece.

“I wish to apologise for what I said this morning,” Stark said. “If I upset you, then please know that it was not my intention.”

Loki blinked– that had not been what he was expecting at all. “Thank you for your apology,” he said. “It is appreciated. Is that all?”

“I suppose so,” Stark sighed. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew I didn’t mean any offence, not at all. And that I _did_ mean what I said before all of that.”

It took Loki a moment to work out what Stark meant– and when he did, he found that he couldn’t actually be mad about it. How… _frustrating._

“I thank you for that as well,” he said. “And I also apologise for the way that I acted last night. It was not proper.” _No matter how well deserved._

Stark’s expression softened at that, and he seemed to be thinking hard on something before he spoke again. “I know it’s not my place,” he said slowly, _carefully._ “But… you know that you don’t have to stand on ceremony with me, right? I’ve spent more of my life as a tradesman than as a lord, and I’m not going to tell on you if you let a little bit of yourself out for a moment.”

Loki almost snorted at that. _Almost._ “Please,” he muttered, allowing himself the only free rein that he felt he could. “I have to stand on ceremony for everyone.”

He didn’t wait for Stark’s reaction before he turned away again.

“I hope that you find the person who stole your book,” Stark called after him.

“I don’t think I need to,” Loki replied over his shoulder. “I believe they know the consequences of what they have done.”

Stark seemed content to leave it at that, for he didn’t say anything else– or perhaps he finally accepted that Loki did not want to speak with him.

It was only when Loki made it to his desk in his quarters and began pulling out the necessary documents that he realised he probably should have chastised Stark for saying what he had– but Loki hadn’t even thought to do so. It was unusual for someone to actually _want_ him to act more like himself rather than the persona he constantly had to portray to the world, and…

He couldn’t decide whether he had liked it or not.

Not that it mattered. Stark was wrong– Loki couldn’t afford to let down his masks, not even for a moment. That he had done so that morning in his moment of tiredness was regrettable, and likely something that would bother him for a while now.

He would just need to be more careful, especially around Stark. If, that is, Loki couldn’t find a way to avoid the man entirely.

—|x|—

Loki did not make much progress on his search over the course of the rest of the afternoon, nor even the following day, for he was busy with the preparations for the feast now that he finally had the funds secured. And by the time the day after _that_ arrived, Loki _was _hoping for a little bit of time off, no matter how unlikely that seemed like it might be.

Then Thor, curse him, had the idea of holding a tourney while the delegation from Alfheim were visiting– and when he first heard, Loki worried that Thor was intending for it to be something else on Loki’s plate. Thankfully though, a tourney was not the kind of thing that Thor was willing to leave in Loki’s hands, and so the workload wouldn’t be added to Loki’s pile of things to do. And with the issue of the money sorted for now, Loki _actually_ found half a moment to relax.

Unfortunately, though, Volstagg cornered Loki in the middle of the gardens while he was taking a moment to himself and told him that Thor requested he oversee the signups for the tourney, since the lot of them were riding out to the forest that surrounded the outskirts of the city to see if they could find any evidence of a hideout.

(Which, honestly, was one of the more ridiculous plans Loki had ever heard. Did they really think that the Hood was not only living in the forest, but also making his way into the castle on a frequent basis from all the way _outside_ the city walls? How inefficient.)

But unless Loki wanted to give Thor any more clues, Loki didn’t have an excuse to say no, and he lost his free afternoon.

There were a fair number of names on the lists already when Loki arrived to take over from Thor, accepting his brother’s loud thanks with a tight smile. The collection bags were rather full, and Loki considered them for a moment before casting a simple spell– and then he settled down into the chair.

He had only just done so when an annoyingly familiar person stepped up to the table.

_Really?_ It was like Stark was following him or something. He prepared himself for another interrogation, but Stark only offered him a respectful bow of his head before turning to the lists and picking up a quill.

“_You’re_ signing up for the tourney?” Loki asked in surprise, unable to help himself.

“Of course,” Stark replied. “I make weapons. I have to be able to use them to make sure that they work, do I not?”

Well, that made sense, Loki supposed– and he knew that Stark was good with a sword, but it wasn’t the duelling or the melee that Stark was signing himself up for.

“Targets?”

“Yes. I’m also a pretty good shot.”

“With a bow?” Loki asked. If Stark wanted to shoot at a target, then he should be signing up for the archery competition instead.

Stark shrugged. “Something like that. What about you?”

Loki shook his head. “I won’t be competing,” he said.

After all, it wasn’t that anyone would want to have him there. He had only ever competed in targets himself, at least within the last decade– the event itself had been made at the Queen’s request a year before her death, and was only continued in her memory. It was considered lesser than any of the others, due to the lack of clear regulations. Thus it was not as elite as the sword events, or the archery, or even the axe throwing– for Targets did not require a specific weapon. And really, it was the only event that Loki _could_ compete in, since he would always be accused of cheating in a melee, and he was not good enough to put up a proper fight in either the sword or the joust– both of which were dangerous enough that his opponent would very obviously go easy on him in fear of harming a royal, something which Loki _hated_.

Thor, on the other hand, was skilled enough with both his favoured hammer in the melee and a sword, so there was no need for any warrior to go easy. Thor could win for _real_, and he loved fighting in the tourneys.

But even though the Targets event was perfect for Loki, to compete in it made the others look down on him– and that was something he was not upset to miss out on.

Unaware of Loki’s inner thoughts, Stark was frowning.

“Why not?” he asked. “I’ve seen you fight, you could wipe the floor with almost any of them.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Loki said stiffly. “But I am afraid that it isn’t true. And besides, as there will be royalty from another kingdom in attendance, a royal must officiate the events. And since Thor will be fighting, that duty falls to me.”

“What about the King?” Stark asked.

“He does not like to attend such things,” Loki reminded him. “My father rules from a distance, these days. I thought you were aware of that.”

Odin had become rather recluse since Frigga had died, which meant that many of the Royal Duties – especially those in the public arena – had fallen on Loki and Thor. Loki did not mind for the most part, because he knew that his mother’s death had hit them all hard, and he wanted to do his part for his kingdom. But… he did sometimes wish that he could have a _little_ more time to himself.

Which, actually, officiating over the tourney would allow– for while everyone was watching the event, Loki would be able to get some work done in between announcements, thus freeing up his other time.

So he didn’t _mind_ that, but all the of lead up was something that he would have preferred to avoid.

Thankfully, though, Stark didn’t linger for much longer. He offered a small comment about Loki’s non-competing being a shame – which, of course, it was _not_ – and then he went on his way.

The rest of the people who were in the line to sign up for the tourney were far less interesting and thankfully far less talkative, and all Loki had to do was take their money and place it into the smaller bag he held in his lap, to be added to the larger ones later.

And okay, admittedly Loki _might_ have zoned out a bit while he was considering routes the Hood could have taken through the castle in order to break into Sif’s rooms undetected, and he _could_ have been paying a little more attention. But as it was, the first indication he had that something was amiss was when one of Thor’s warriors tried to sign up for the melee and ended up making a complaint.

“There isn’t any room left on the bottom of this list,” Bjorn said haughtily. “It’s been torn. Prince Loki, do you have another sheet of parchment?”

“Torn?” Loki asked, confused–

And indeed, the bottom of the melee list had been torn away.

Feeling an instant kind of suspicion sinking into his stomach, Loki turned his head and stared at where the full collection bags had been sitting behind his chair—

Only to see that they were gone, and sitting in their place was the missing piece of torn parchment, folded a few times and embossed with a message written in the _same blue ink_ as that which was being used to mark names on the lists, so chosen for its price to impress the delegation from Alfheim which was due to arrive the very next day.

And as if the choice of parchment wasn’t enough—

[_I thought I understood, but it would seem that you are not quite so shrewd as you would have everyone believe._]

Oh, it was to be insults now, was it?

Although, Loki found that most of his frustration stemmed from the fact that the Hood had managed to steal from _right under his nose._

But of course… that wasn’t entirely a problem.

His lips already curling into a victorious smirk, Loki reached for the quill on the desk immediately, and wrote down his response before sending the note on its way.

[_Be careful. Arrogance can be dangerous._]

—|x|—

When Loki asked Thor if he could join the hunting party, Thor was surprisingly ecstatic. The others in the group were notably less so, of course, but they could hardly say anything about it when Thor was so obviously on Loki’s side, and _especially _not when they knew Loki would be helpful. To say that they did not _want_ his help would only be akin to admitting it was Loki’s company that they objected to.

Loki thought that he might have heard Sif muttering about how he had managed to lose the money for the tourney, but he didn’t bother commenting on it. She and the others would see soon enough.

Thor’s methods were far more blunt than anything Loki would have come up with himself, but they suited his needs well enough– at least in this instance. They patrolled the streets and questioned anyone for information, as well as checking the areas that Thor had deemed were the most likely route a thief would take to get into the town and then through to the castle from the forest.

(And Loki had to admit, Thor had isolated quite a few weak spots in the defences which were certainly good to know about– though of course, they would be useless in helping to find the Hood, since the Hood wasn’t a peasant and _didn’t live in the forest._)

Loki didn’t pay too much attention, though– his eyes were on the merchants, on the tradesmen and on the _people_. He watched every coin exchange hands, and it wasn’t too long before—

“_There,”_ Loki exclaimed, pulling his horse to a stop before dismounting and making his way toward the bread stall in the market that they had been riding through.

Thor called after him, but Loki took hardly any notice– he walked up to the woman who was purchasing a loaf of bread and spoke over her question to the baker, causing the woman to turn and stare at him in shock.

“Excuse me,” he said, his tone light but firm. “Would you mind telling me where you got those coins from?”

The woman stuttered for a moment. “Your Highness, Prince Loki—”

“Where did they come from?” Loki asked again.

“My husband,” she said, speaking quickly. “He works in the castle kitchen—”

“No,” Loki replied, holding out his hand. When she fearfully dropped the few coins into his palm, the faint green glow on them became more pronounced, so that everyone could see what he had noticed from a distance. “These coins were stolen from the castle yesterday. Due to the recent events, I placed an enchantment on them so I would be able to trace them in the event of another theft, and it would seem that I was right to do so. So, I shall ask you one more time. _Where_ did you get these coins?”

He knew that his stare must be hard by now– his voice certainly was. He could hear the others muttering behind him, but they made no move to interrupt, and it was only a few moments before the woman swallowed and then spoke again in a fearful tone.

“They were left on my windowsill, your highness,” she whispered. “Late last night, just as always. I didn’t see who brought them, I swear.”

Loki paused, surprised. “Did you not sell anything for them?” he asked. “Surely they weren’t just given to you for nothing.”

“It’s what he does,” The woman insisted. “I swear it. He’s given money to others as well, it isn’t just me, I swear I don’t know who he is, I don’t know anything!”

Loki believed her– but it didn’t help. He turned to show Thor the coins, letting the glow go back to the very subtle gleam that it had been before, almost impossible to see if you did not already know that it was there.

“You marked them,” Sif said in surprise, leaning in slightly to get a closer look.

“You don’t believe I saw those large bags of money and let them sit out of my sight for no reason, did you?” Loki asked– and he would be lying if he said he didn’t take pleasure from the way that Sif glanced away in response. “Thor, we need to find the rest of the coins. We can map where he distributed them, and see if there’s a pattern.”

“You think that he gave out more of the money?” Thor asked in surprise.

“She seemed to think so,” Loki replied, jerking his head in the woman’s direction. To be entirely honest, Loki found it difficult to believe– but the evidence was right in front of him, and this was a lead that he couldn’t afford not to chase. “If he did give away more of the money, then this might be why the people aren’t responding to the bounty as quickly as we thought they would.”

“Of course,” Thor muttered, his fingers closing so tightly around the coins in his hand that his knuckles began to turn white. “He _is_ paying them off, giving them the money so that they don’t give him up. We tax them, and then he steals it right back a moment later.”

“Thor,” Loki said warily as he recognised Thor’s tone, stepping a little closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. We don’t want to make a scene here, not in the street, not when we don’t know who’s watching.”

Even Thor could see the logic in that, but it wasn’t enough to abate his anger.

“We need to put a stop to this,” Thor muttered. “We should—”

“Call a council meeting,” Loki cut in.

“That will take too long,” Thor shot back. “Before we have the approval of the nobles the people will have traded their coin so that we will not be able to follow the trail—”

“Then you go and do that now,” Loki said. “I will go to the castle and call the meeting, and it will commence once you have arrived back with all the coins.”

It took a moment, but Thor nodded his agreement. “Very well. Then I will see you back at the castle, brother,” Thor growled– and then they both turned back toward where they had left their horses, Sif and the Warriors Three on their heels. “It would seem that we have a lot of work to do.”


	3. Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square B5**— _Dialogue: “Don’t you dare.”_

Loki hated calling meetings. He should have known better than to volunteer himself for the task, but it had been the best way to prevent Thor’s anger from getting the better of him and resulting in something dangerous, such as trying to force that woman in the market into telling them what she knew– or, more likely, what she didn’t.

It just meant that Loki had to deal with the grumbles of the people who didn’t want to attend a meeting, who would have much preferred to either laze around all day or spend their time doing more pleasurable things. Which, of course, only made Loki all the more frustrated because they hardly had any workload _at all_ compared to his own, and– did they hear _him_ complaining about it?

“Prince Thor needs advice, and you are one of our advisors,” Loki hissed angrily at the Lord who whined about this being the second meeting in less than the same number of weeks. “This is your _job_. Unless you would rather have your title and your land taken from you?”

Thankfully, threats and an already rather intimidating reputation went a very long way to making people do what Loki wanted, and eventually he did manage to corral them all into the council chamber. But as it turned out, it would have been more beneficial for them to have been a little later, because _then_ they all had to sit and wait for Thor. And hanging out in a room with all the people that Loki didn’t particularly like – and who didn’t particularly like him – was certainly not his idea of a comfortable experience.

Deciding to try and make the most of it, Loki closed his eyes in concentration before twisting his fingers in the air—

And then when he opened his eyes again, he was holding the bag that he had left on the floor beside the desk in his quarters.

There were a few people staring at him – some in revulsion, some in fear – but Loki paid them no notice as he took out a piece of parchment and writing implements and then began making notes on the parchment with a quill. He started by writing down everyone who had the opportunity to steal the coins from him at the tourney sign ups, and then eliminated any that were not already on his list of nobles who were likely to wear a hood and engage in thievery in the dead of the night. He was just about to go through again and check them against the people who had signed up for the melee when someone spoke right behind him.

“You do realise that writing a list of names right when an emergency meeting has been called is rather suspicious, right?”

“Stark,” Loki muttered, laying down his quill with a familiar surge of exasperation. “You do realise that reading over someone’s shoulder is rather rude?”

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Stark said– and surprisingly, he almost sounded like he meant it. “Lord Tyr is trying to convince me that outfitting the entire Einherjar corps with Uru blades at my own expense would be a good idea, and the first excuse to leave that I could think of was that you wanted to speak with me.”

“I was the first thing that came to your mind?” Loki asked wryly, not even bothering to look up as he struck Lord Tyr from his list. After all, the man only had one hand, and there had been enough witnesses of the Hood using both of his that he could be eliminated.

“What are you actually doing, anyway?” Stark asked, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a rampaging dragon. “Is it a hit list? Or is it more secret stuff that I’m not meant to see?”

“I’m listing people who might be the Hood,” Loki replied, not seeing any reason to be coy about it.

“They’re all nobles,” Stark commented curiously. “You don’t agree with Thor, then? You don’t think he’s a peasant?”

“_Prince_ Thor is investigating one avenue,” Loki said. “I am investigating another.”

Stark didn’t seem to notice the hostility in Loki’s tone– he just stepped around Loki and—

Hang on a minute—

“And that is Prince Thor’s chair,” Loki said stiffly, staring as Stark made himself comfortable– and Loki was not the only one.

“He’s not using it,” Stark said. “I’ll get off it the moment he comes back. And come on, you can’t tell me that you _actually_ mind.”

Well, that was true– at least, Loki couldn’t without lying. It wasn’t the proper thing, but… it _was_ just a chair, even if it was the one in the centre of the head of the table. And, of course, as per usual– before Loki could say anything else Stark was already talking again.

“I’m not on the list, yet,” Stark commented, leaning over beside Loki so that their arms brushed together.

“Should you be?” Loki asked in a dry tone, sighing as he turned to the side to look in his bag for what was left of the list of sign-ups for the melee.

“Well, I talked to you at the table yesterday. I had the means.”

“It is not you, though,” Loki said easily.

“How can you be sure?” Stark asked, sounding almost insulted. _Good._ “I could totally be a thief if I wanted.”

Loki just sighed, not wanting to give the answer that was running through his mind– and when he looked back up, the torn list in his hand, he saw that Stark wasn’t really paying attention anyway. He was just finishing writing something on the bottom of Loki’s list, Loki’s quill held awkwardly between his fingers.

Loki almost rolled his eyes when he saw what Stark had written.

[_\--Anthony Stark_]

The letters were pressed too hard into the parchment, and there was a large blotch at the end of the last letter. It couldn’t be clearer that Stark was unpractised with a quill, even before he admitted to it himself.

“I’m not used to ink,” Stark muttered by way of explanation. “Sorry. I usually prefer to use graphite or charcoal on my designs.” He paused then, and glanced up at Loki as if he had just admitted to something embarrassing. But even though he found the man irritating, Loki found it easy to wave the admission away. This, after all, was hardly something that he could hold over him.

“It took me many years of practice with a quill before I was able to write without blotches,” he said. “I would prefer graphite as well, but it fades far more easily.” Then he held out his hand. “However, it _was_ rude of you to take my possessions without asking.”

“Right,” Stark winced, though he was already smiling that annoying smile only a moment later. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be accused of being a thief.”

Loki snatched his quill back with perhaps a little more force than necessary, and then turned back to his list.

But before he could get anything else done, the doors slammed open and Thor came thundering inside along with the rest of the hunting party.

Stark was up like a lightning bolt, sliding into the empty seat on Loki’s _other_ side before Thor could notice that his chair was occupied. Honestly, Stark was just lucky that no one wanted to sit beside Loki. If the chair had been in use, he would have been far more noticeable.

But as it was, Thor was far too angry to take note of such things– angry enough that he did not even sit down. As the other four took their places Thor simply threw back his chair, and then slammed a bag of coins down on the table.

It was heavy enough to feed a peasant family for several months, yet it was still paltry compared to what had been lost. It would seem that Thor had been unable to collect all of the lost funds, and although Loki was sure that they would be able to get it all back in time, he could already sense the complaints that would be coming his way for his methods.

But of course, it wasn’t like he had tried to get the coins stolen on _purpose_. He had placed the spell as a precaution– but of course, he knew that none of those present would accept that as an excuse– and was proven right when Sif’s glare landed on him.

“This is your fault,” she said. “You thought you could lay a trap, but you only lost us that money—”

“I gained us valuable information,” Loki hissed, though most of his anger stemmed from the fact that Sif had just given away what he had done to almost _all_ of his suspects. He wouldn’t be able to use that trick again.

But… the thought _did_ give him an idea, and even as Sif hissed something back – and Stark said something else in return – Loki turned his thoughts inward as he came up with an idea.

Because yes, there was a possibility that the Hood was in the room right now– that he was one of the members of the council. He might be one of the other nobles who were _not_ advisors, but if Loki _could_ work out for certain whether or not the Hood was one of these people, then he would be able to narrow down his search.

And, well… Sif had just inspired something of a plan.

The argument between Sif and Stark had petered out by the time Loki was brought back to himself by a loud exclamation from Thor—

“There is one way that we can solve this,” Thor growled. “We’ll raise the taxes further. We’ll raise them high enough to make the people desperate, and we’ll double the guards on the collections to make _sure_ that the Hood cannot steal them back. We’ll make them desperate enough that they will turn on him and turn him _in_ for the reward.”

“I do not think we should spark dissent among the people when we have a delegation from another kingdom on the way,” Loki said warily.

“No, what we don’t want is a _criminal_ on the loose,” Thor corrected– and Loki had to agree that Thor had something of a point, there. But what he wanted to do was, in Loki’s opinion, still too rash. “If the Hood wants to help the people, then maybe he’ll turn _himself _in. We’ll make it known that we will only keep increasing taxes until he is caught, and that the taxes collected will contribute to the bounty for his _head_.”

“His head?” Sif asked, leaning forward in excitement.

“Dead or alive,” Thor replied. “I want him _stopped_. I want the people going after him like wolves. We already instated caput gerat lupinum, let’s push the people to _acting_ on it.”

“Thor, think about this,” Loki said, speaking quickly over the raising din in the room as several of the advisors shouted their support. “There is another way.”

“What then?” Thor asked. “What other option have you thought of, Loki?”

“I agree that we should raise the taxes, and announce that it is for the bounty,” Loki said, throwing a bone. “But we shouldn’t just collect the money– that’s an opportunity being thrown away. We know that the Hood will want to steal back the money we take– so let’s use the money as _bait.” _

“Loki,” Thor said with a touch of suspicion. “You know that is the _opposite_ of what father wanted done with the taxes. And after you lost the registration money—”

“_I_ did not lose it, Thor,” Loki snapped. “That money was stolen, and our money will _continue_ to be stolen for as long as the Hood remains free! The only way that we will be able to stop this is if we catch him.”

Thor considered him for a moment– and when he glanced away, Loki knew that he had Thor’s support. Even if Thor did not wish to admit as much out loud.

Taking that as his cue to begin, Loki stood from his chair and moved his list and his writing implements to the side.

“I suggest that we change the route of the tax collector,” Loki said, looking around and meeting the eye of every person in the room to ensure that they were all listening intently. To make sure that they would all know _exactly_ where he was sending the taxes.

Then, he spread his hands over the table and used his seiðr to form a rough map of the town, the lines of the roads and the blocky buildings glowing faintly green. The nobles looked a little uncomfortable, but Loki honestly didn’t care. He wanted to make this as _clear_ as possible.

“Instead of going through here,” Loki said, lighting up the route that the carriage with the collection of taxes would normally take, “I propose that we change the route to _here_.” A new path glowed brightly, cutting through more populated streets than the first. “Previously, we have preferred the collections to go through the quieter areas of the town so as to attract less attention. But it is clear that strategy is not working. Instead, we should go through the areas where there are _more_ people, so that there will be less opportunity for the Hood to hide.”

“What about the common folk, though?” Tyr spoke up. “If we already know that they are on his side—”

“All the better, then,” Loki said. “Any fight in the open might result in collateral damage, and if the Hood wants the peasants to _stay_ on his side, then he cannot run the risk of hurting them.”

“And if he decides that it is worth it?” Tyr asked. “What will the plan be?”

“I doubt he will make an attempt,” Loki said, staring around again, his gaze and his tone no less than _challenging_. And as he considered the many people sitting around the table, Loki couldn’t help but wonder if one of _them_ was the person who had been writing Loki notes.

Ragnarson was perhaps at the top of Loki’s list, though the man could be rather dislikeable, and Loki could hardly imagine him giving money to peasants for nothing in return. Lofnson, on the other hand, would be the type to be kind, but he lacked the skill and subtlety necessary to pull off being Asgard’s most notorious criminal in history. Perhaps even Stark might have been a suspect – as he had pointed out himself, there were certain qualities he possessed, such as intelligence and the physical profile. But again, he lacked subtlety– he was far too loud, and incapable of keeping his mouth shut. If he were the Hood, everyone would already know about it. And, you know. The fact that Stark was so eager to catch the Hood that he was willing to front the bounty himself also suggested that Stark was not the thief.

There wasn’t a single person on the council who matched the facts that Loki had managed to put together. And perhaps it was a different noble, someone that Loki hadn’t come into contact with before.

Well, if that was the case, then Loki would know soon enough.

And by the time Loki finished laying out in perfect detail exactly where he thought the carriage should go – coming up with the route on the spot since really, the details did not entirely matter – Thor’s lips were pulled into a grin.

“Good idea, brother,” Thor praised him. “We will wait along the old route, and set a trap.”

“Perhaps you should have another wagon?” Stark suggested. “A decoy, that you could use as bait?”

“Excellent,” Loki agreed, sparing Stark a glance before looking back to his brother. “Thor, could we manage that?”

“Certainly,” Thor said, a gleam in his eyes that Loki knew would match his own. It almost brought him back to when they were younger, when they used to work as a team to lay traps and pranks on unsuspecting nobles and guards.

And there was a moment where Loki thought that maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if Loki didn’t catch the Hood, if only he and Thor managed to catch him _together_—

But Loki still recoiled from that thought, though it wasn’t at the notion of working _with Thor_– it was because of something else. Something that Loki couldn’t quite put his finger on… or rather, something that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

Regardless, Thor and Loki would be separated for this. Thor had already turned back to Sif and his other friends to begin plotting out how they would follow the decoy wagon through the streets, and Loki would be lying in wait with a ready swarm of Einherjar along the newly plotted route.

And hopefully, with Thor’s plan in place to crush the peasants under the heel of their boots, the bounty in that wagon would be too great for the Hood to ignore. And then, even if they did not manage to catch him, Loki would know from which wagon the Hood went for whether or not he was a member of the council.

It felt a little like the Hood had been a step ahead of Loki this whole time, but now it was Loki’s turn to make his move.

—|x|—

The change of route was, _unfortunately_, a complete success.

Loki had a clutch of skilled Einherjar wait at various strategic locations along the length of the route, while he followed the wagon along while keeping to the edges of the street, using his seiðr to encourage the shadows to cling to his form and keep him even more concealed than he would have been otherwise. It wasn’t complete invisibility – such things would require an insane amount of power and skill – but it was closer than Loki had heard of anyone else managing.

He held a dagger in one hand – which, to be honest, he rather hoped he wouldn’t need to use – and he kept his eyes peeled, ready for even the slightest movement out of the norm.

It was late evening, dark enough that the streets were not busy but still with enough light that the Einherjar were not the only ones outside the houses. The orange glow from the setting sun meant the shadows were long, and Loki had plenty of places to hide. He wasn’t noticed once, and he knew that he would have no trouble stopping any attempt on the wagon.

He was as ready as he could ever be.

But… nothing happened.

The wagon made its way through the town and inside the castle’s outer walls without a single incident.

And once the doors closed shut behind them and the wagon was on its way toward the inner gate, Loki dispelled his seiðr and stood in the middle of the outer courtyard, trying to work out where it had all gone wrong.

Of course, there was the chance that the Hood hadn’t been on the council and hadn’t heard about the change in route—

But Thor and the others arrived with the decoy wagon not long after with the expectation that Loki and the Einherjar would have seen the Hood– but neither group had.

It would seem that the Hood had decided not to take the bait at all.

“Perhaps the threat of the increased bounty was enough to discourage him,” Thor said, grinning with the kind of triumph that _shouldn’t_ suit this outcome, even if it was technically a victory.

“Perhaps,” Loki muttered, speaking through gritted teeth. There was not a single thing about the outing which had gone to plan, since by not attacking _either_ of the wagons, the Hood had prevented Loki from even being able to work out whether or not the thief was on the council. “Or maybe he saw the guards and left. After all, his targets before have been either tax collections guarded by only a few, or items from personal quarters within the castle.”

“We should definitely increase the number of castle guards,” Thor mused– and Loki nearly wanted to hit him, because yes of _course_ they should increase the guards, but to do that they needed to be able to _pay_ them. And for that, they needed money– which at the moment they did not have a lot of, because the Hood kept stealing it all.

Well. At least that was _one_ good thing to have come out of this ‘successful’ plan– at least the taxes would help to swell their funds and replace the money that had been stolen from the tourney cache.

“I would say this went well,” Fandral said, completely contrary to Loki’s thoughts on the matter. “Perhaps we should celebrate—”

“Yes! A feast!” Volstagg exclaimed—

Loki might have rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t given the chance– for a loud cacophony of noise exploded from the inner gatehouse—

Loki and Thor exchanged a short glance before immediately charging in that direction, weapons in hand and the other warriors on their heels.

When they reached the gatehouse, they found it in chaos– the two wagons were both below the inner castle walls, both of them side by side while their Einherjar guards stood with their backs to them and their swords and bows pointed outward—

Arrows were flying in almost every direction, and though none seemed to come from anything other than an Einherji’s weapon.

“What’s going on?” Thor demanded—

“It’s the Hood!” one Einherji replied, “He’s inside the castle walls!”

Loki was immediately as on guard as any of the Einherjar, his gaze skittering around the small space back inside the inner courtyard even as he ducked behind the edge of one of the large wooden doors. The Hood had yet to be violent– but Loki had very little doubt that the Hood would be more than capable with a weapon, considering how skilled he was in other areas. As it was, Loki was rather sure that the only reason the thief hadn’t won a fight so far was because of his skill with stealth made a fight unnecessary.

A skill he was making rather good use of right now, come to think of it– because the Einherjar were all sure that he was _there_, but from the way that they were yelling and waving their weapons about it was clear that they didn’t know exactly _where_ they should be shooting.

“Everyone, stand down!” Loki snapped, struggling to be heard over the din. “This is not helping!”

“Prince Loki, we must keep him away from the wagons—”

“And what will happen when we run out of arrows?” Loki asked sharply. “Stand _down.” _

The Einherjar did as Loki asked– well, though they kept their weapons at the ready, they at least all stopped firing. Their arrows remained trained in every direction, their eyes flickering all over.

But outside of the gatehouse, everything just seemed still. Almost… unnaturally so.

“Hood!” Loki called, stepping out and spreading his arms. “Come on, there is no need to hide in the shadows. Show yourself!”

For a moment, it was as if the world had frozen– but then there was movement out in the shadows—

And then the Hood stepped out to stand in clear sight, his straight-backed stance framed by the doorway.

He was wearing a black coat that cut off just above his knees in a jagged line, as if it had once been longer but purposefully torn to allow for better movement. It was reinforced in the front and over his shoulders with leather plates that were such a dark red they almost looked black as well– a colour that matched the scarf tied over the lower half of his face, which when coupled with the black hood over his head completely obscured his identity. And all of his clothing looked finely made, if a little rough– and Loki couldn’t understand how Thor had ever thought that this man could be a peasant. No peasant could have afforded something like this, and the coat matched the description of what the Hood had been spotted wearing since his very first sighting.

And even from the distance, even through the growing darkness, Loki could see something excited burning in the man’s eyes.

But the moment only lasted for a few seconds—

Because then an arrow shot over Loki’s head from behind him, and the Hood ducked down to avoid it—

Then he threw out one of his hands and a bolt shot through the doors of the gatehouse, forcing Loki to throw himself to the side– and by the time he glanced back to the doorway, the Hood was out of sight—

A few Einherjar charged forward, running past Loki and out into the inner courtyard, their swords flashing in their hands. They _poured_ out of the gatehouse, ready for a fight—

But Loki thought he knew how the Hood worked well enough to understand what was about to happen next, so he waited—

And Loki watched as a dark figure raced inside the moment the Einherjar were out, as if he had simply been waiting on the other side of the wall.

Loki was on his feet but the Hood was _fast– _he leapt up on top of one of the wagons, but then rather than taking anything he just kept on running over it. Thor was yelling and shouting, but as he swiped with his hammer the Hood just danced out of the way—

And then he was out of the door, and Loki was on his heels. And rather than simply chasing, Loki pushed out with his hand– and green seiðr danced around the Hood’s ankles, pulling him down to the cobbled ground.

Even though the Hood was wearing that dark red scarf over his face so all that was visible was his dark brown eyes, Loki could tell that the man was smirking.

The Hood lashed out with his feet, catching Loki unawares and sending _him _to the ground—

And then the Hood was up and running, sprinting across the courtyard and back toward the outer wall.

Loki was back on his feet in a moment– and he could still hear Thor shouting, and he knew that his brother would soon be giving chase as well.

“Stay with the money,” Loki yelled over his shoulder. “He’s probably trying to distract us! I’ll catch him, you protect the taxes!”

From Thor’s loud complaint it was clear that he didn’t agree with the plan in the slightest, but Loki didn’t take any notice. His boots slammed against the cobbles as he sprinted across the courtyard, doing all that he could to try and catch up to the criminal.

The Einherjar on the walls had their bows trained on the Hood, but he swerved as he ran and avoided their arrows – and as Loki drew closer, they were forced to stop shooting out of fear of hitting him. The Einherjar had already closed the gates, but the Hood did not slow down– he veered to the side and ran along the edge of the wall, close enough that the Einherjar on top would not be able to shoot him unless they leaned over and shot straight down. One tried– and was hit in the shoulder with a bolt that the Hood shot upward from some unseen weapon. And still Loki followed, running on his trail, following even as the Hood threw open a tower door which had been left _unlocked_ and then sprinted up the spiral staircase, up to the top of the walls, past the injured guard and then—

The Hood paused on the very edge of the wall above the main gatehouse. He was right on the precipice, standing on top of the battlements– and Loki gasped, lurching forward with his hands outstretched.

“Oh, don’t you _dare—”_

Then the Hood took that step and plummeted over the edge.

Loki charged forward, almost frantic as he leaned over the wall to get a better look, expecting to see the Hood’s broken body crumpled on the bridge– and then he swore under his breath as he saw the Hood climbing quickly down a rope that had been tethered to the wall.

Loki would be having the guards’ _hides_ for this—

The Hood’s boots were already hitting the ground as Loki swung up onto the battlements, and he wrapped a protective layer of seiðr around his hands so that he could slide down the rope without pause, also using his magic to soften the fall. It meant that he hadn’t lost any ground, and he was back on the Hood’s tail as they raced into the town.

As he ran, Loki couldn’t help but think that this was clearly carefully planned, since the rope had to have been placed beforehand– and placed in such a way that no one had noticed it. Yet the Hood would never have been able to escape that way if he was carrying the crate of taxes. So why _had_ the Hood decided to attack when the taxes were already within the castle’s walls?

Maybe he had just wanted to make a scene.

Well, if that had been his plan then he certainly succeeded.

Loki lost the Hood for a moment, as they entered the rows of close-packed houses– but then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and glanced up to see the Hood running over a rooftop.

Loki chased from below, following the shadow as it leapt over the narrow streets– until he came across a house with steps that led to a second-floor balcony—

And then Loki was on the roofs as well, his boots moving over tiles and thatches rather than the cobbles. He could hear the Einherjar guards all around, cutting off streets, perhaps not realising that their prey was running _above_ them—

Loki tried to trip the Hood up again, but then the Hood dashed around a corner, and by the time Loki did the same, he was met with the sight of a too-wide road to jump– and the Hood was gone _again_.

Gnashing his teeth but trying not to lose hope, Loki climbed back down to street level – as that was the only place the Hood could have gone – and then he paused, for a moment. And rather than continuing in the same direction he turned back the way they had come, back toward the castle—

There was a flash of dark material through the shadows, and Loki ran to follow with a sharp grin. He knew he had to be getting close, that the Hood was surely starting to get tired and he would make a mistake sooner rather than later.

Loki dashed through an alley and took yet another corner so fast he almost skidded into a wall, but he managed to keep his feet as he shot out into the middle of the town square—

Where he was suddenly met with a surging crowd of people.

_Norns damn it–_ Loki felt like he could have _punched_ something.

Why there were so many, Loki couldn’t have said. It was surely far too late now for the usual activities, and he was sure that there had been no events planned. And in this crowd… there was no way that Loki was going to be able to find the thief. He still tried of course, not one to give up– but there were so many people wearing so many different colours that he had to accept that it was impossible.

Even if the thief was from the court, even if he wore a face that Loki would have recognised, all the man would have to do would be to take off the hood and he would blend in seamlessly with the townsfolk.

Cursing under his breath, Loki turned on his heel and headed in the direction of home, forced to accept that it was no use. But as he moved back through the empty streets, devoid of people as they _all_ seemed to be in the square—

Something whipped past Loki’s head and slammed into the wall behind him. Loki immediately ducked back around a corner, getting out of the way– but when nothing else happened after a few moments, he risked a glance—

But of course, there was no sign of the Hood.

Feeling a little frustrated, Loki turned to glare at the bolt that was stuck in the wall– and then his frustration melted away.

He might have lost the Hood, but– the thief had not vanished without a trace.

The shaft was something between an arrow and a bolt from a crossbow, though it was smaller than either. It wasn’t a weapon that Loki had seen before, and yet, even then, it didn’t manage to hold all of Loki’s attention– for he was far more interested in the piece of parchment that it had pinned to the wall.

Loki curled his fingers around the bolt and wrenched it from the stone, and then carefully took the note from the end, being cautious not to rip the parchment any further than it already had been.

The parchment was not as fancy as the one that had been used for the first note, but the red ink was almost as familiar as the handwriting.

[_Close, my prince. But not close enough._]

Loki closed his hand around the note, and stared up at the buildings around him– but there was no movement on the rooftops, nor in any of the windows. Of course there wasn’t. The Hood wasn’t stupid enough to stick around to watch Loki’s reaction, not when he’d pulled the perfect trick with the crowd.

Feeling somehow both annoyed and amused, Loki tucked the note into his pocket. The words were already burned into his mind, and as he began making his way back toward the castle, he once again found himself theorising on the Hood’s plan.

Because, the Hood must have written this _before_ making his attempt on the taxes– there was no way that he’d managed to write it in the middle of the kerfuffle. That meant he expected Loki to be a part of what was going on, or perhaps… perhaps he _knew_.

Perhaps the Hood _had_ known about the decoy– perhaps he’d caught on to Loki’s plot and had wondered of the truth to it, and had decided to strike in the one place he would have access to _both_ of the wagons at once.

Which meant that the Hood had outsmarted them again. He hadn’t taken any of the money, but that hardly mattered– the noise had been enough that the whole town would know what had happened come daybreak, and likely the entire kingdom by noon. Thus the Hood had come away with nothing, but he’d cost them a lot nonetheless.

And you know what? Loki wasn’t used to going up against an opponent who was as smart as him. It was frustrating, it was irritating, and it was… _glorious_.

It was a game of cat and mouse like no other, wherein Loki was unsure which of the two parts he played. Because as much as he wanted to see himself as the cat, lying in wait for the mouse to make a mistake, at times it felt rather like he was the one being watched.

But rather than putting him on edge, Loki found that it gave him something to focus on in the midst of the dreariness of the rest of his life.

And as he dipped his hand back into his pocket and closed his fingers around the note, he realised that he had not felt this alive in _years._


	4. Gambit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square N3**— _Free Square._

Loki had never been able to get to sleep easily.

It was the curse of having an over-active mind, his mother always used to say– the problem of not being able to stop his thoughts from flowing through his head. He just couldn’t ever stop _thinking_, couldn’t clear his mind enough to be able to relax.

It meant that unless he was that special, bone-weary brand of exhausted, he couldn’t ever just fall asleep. He could lay there for hours, staring at the dark green canopy over his head, this mind never pausing long enough to allow him to rest– at least not until he’d thought his way toward exhaustion.

Which meant that this was just one night of many, and yet… rather than the usual stress about running the kingdom Loki’s thoughts were instead buzzing with the memory of running _through_ the town, of the way that the Hood had apparently made a plan for the purpose of causing trouble rather than his usual intention of stealing. The chase had been exhilarating, and even though Loki had _lost_, it was– one of his better memories, he thought. And the more he thought _on_ what had happened, the more he began to see that perhaps… the gambit hadn’t been a complete and utter loss, after all.

For starters, he’d been able to see the Hood much closer than anyone else ever had, and he had been able to get a gauge on the man’s abilities. He had been right about the Hood’s skill and dexterity– the man had been able to climb down that rope in only a few seconds. He was also clearly daring, and the way he had leapt from the battlements no longer left any question as to how he had been willing to climb over the roof of the palace to get into Loki’s rooms, or to steal bags of coins from right under Loki’s nose.

Then there was the fact that the Hood _clearly_ had to be in communication with the people, to have been able to get so many of them out and into the streets to act as his shield. It had to go deeper than the Hood leaving money for struggling families to be able to afford a loaf of bread– because they weren’t _just_ keeping quiet for him. Oh no, he had them leaving their homes at night to _actively_ _defy the crown_. That kind of thing took more than respect. The people _loved_ him, and Loki wanted to know _why_.

Even beyond that, Loki knew that there was something else going on here, something more that he had yet to puzzle out. And oh, he was going to have _fun_ doing so– even if it meant that he was missing sleep.

Because, despite ample opportunity– despite the taxes being laid out for him on silver platter, the Hood hadn’t stolen anything that night. His plan with the rope proved that he hadn’t even had the intention of doing so.

But in that case… _why?_ Why risk being caught, why go up against a whole platoon of Einherjar, Lady Sif, Warriors Three, and _both_ of Asgard’s princes when there wasn’t any hope of reward?

There had to be something, Loki knew it. Some kind of reason, something _logical._ Because thus far, the Hood had been nothing less than the most intelligent opponent Loki had ever faced.

But it couldn’t have been _just_ to make a scene– because that would have been too risky for too little reward. The Hood already had the attention of the whole kingdom– everyone was _already_ looking his way. The townsfolk already knew he was stealing from the palace, and the nobles already hated him. True, making the situation worse right before the Prince of Alfheim was due to arrive would have caused a few problems but, nothing major. Not after what had already occurred.

No, here had to be something _else_, some other reason for why the Hood had decided to do what he had. It was the first time he’d ever tried anything like it, and– the only thing that had changed which could have possibly prompted it had been…

Well.

The _letters._

And perhaps it was a little arrogant, perhaps Loki was reading too much into it. But… he just couldn’t help but think on the possibility that, _maybe_, the Hood had done it for _him_.

After all, the change of route had been Loki’s plan, and if the Hood _was_ a member of the council then he would know that. If he wasn’t… well, he still must have known that it would get _Loki’s_ attention. The Hood had waited until both the wagons were under the gatehouse until he attacked– and perhaps he hadn’t done that in order to be able to get at the wagons at all. Perhaps he had waited for moment to attack when he could be sure that _both_ of the princes, that _Loki_ was present.

Well. Loki had to admit, he enjoyed that thought a little more than he should. He knew that the Hood was a criminal, he knew that this game would no doubt end badly– but it was still a _game_—

A game that someone wished to play with him.

You see, no one in Asgard ever seemed to treat Loki with any kind of respect– at least, none more than what they had to, in order to avoid repercussions. They spoke his title with a curl to their lip and they weren’t afraid to insult him, though only a select few were brave enough to do so to his face. They didn’t _like_ him, they didn’t respect him, and they never went out of their way to speak to him. Well, except perhaps for Stark, but that was just because the man wasn’t used to court protocol, having been a Lord for far less time than any of the others. But other than him– everyone saw Loki as the lesser prince, as a cheat. They didn’t let him join the tourneys, they wouldn’t spar with him even just for practice. Not anymore, not even if he swore he wouldn’t use his seiðr.

And yet… here was the Hood, playing a game with his _life_ on the line, taunting Loki into doing his worst.

The Hood could have kept his head down, could have stayed in the shadows. If the Hood had not been sending the letters and had chosen a different strategy earlier that night, then Loki would not know half so much about the Hood as he did.

The Hood was taking a risk, just to dance this dance with _Loki_.

And that…

Well.

Loki turned over, and buried down into his pillows with a smile.

That made Loki _excited,_ and if he was being honest? He couldn’t wait for the Hood to show up again. Even though he was no doubt going to have to fill in a mile of paperwork for whatever the Hood decided to steal next—

He just wanted to see what the Hood would _do_ next.

Because the whole thing was far more than intriguing.

And there had been moments leading up to now where Loki had started thinking in terms that he knew he shouldn’t, when he’d had to force his thoughts to other avenues because—

Loki didn’t just want to catch the Hood. This wasn’t a game that he wanted to win for the sake of winning– he wanted to _meet him_. He wanted to hold a conversation with the criminal who had decided to try and take on Asgard singlehandedly, to speak with the only person who seemed to be able to match Loki for wit. A man who could grin as he was chased by the most powerful mage Asgard had ever seen– a man who would _taunt_ just because it was fun.

He seemed like the kind of person that Loki wanted to _know_.

There was a game afoot, there was no doubt—

And Loki couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Which meant, of course, that he still couldn’t _sleep_.

Honestly, there was hardly any point in trying. He felt tired, yet– at the same time, he was far too alert. He knew he wouldn’t be falling into slumber anytime soon. And if he _was_ awake, then. Perhaps he should try and get some work done.

Still with a smile on his lips and letting the high he was feeling keep him upright as he placed one foot in front of the other, Loki clothed himself with his seiðr – not wanting to test his balance while pulling his pants on that late at night – and then headed out into the corridor, making for the kitchen.

Loki wasn’t hungry– he’d eaten enough at dinner, if only to try and drown out the sound of Thor’s voice as he complained. For when Loki had arrived back at the castle from the town, Thor had been rather… displeased_._ Loki, of course, was blamed for ‘losing’ the Hood– which he supposed he should have expected, since he had told Thor to stay behind. But, that _had_ meant that they hadn’t run the risk of the Hood doubling back to steal the tax money– so at least they would be able to afford the expenses of having a visitor.

And, Loki’s failure to capture the Hood also put enough of a damper on the mood that Fandral and Volstagg no longer wished for a feast, which also helped the situation. Silver linings.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he rounded a corner and almost walked straight into another person. A familiar person, who, at this point – if he was being entirely honest – Loki wasn’t even all that surprised to see.

Because of course Stark was wandering around the castle in the middle of the night. Why wouldn’t he be? He always seemed to appear right when Loki _didn’t_ want him to.

Stark, however, seemed to be surprised to see _him_– and Loki would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the way that Stark’s dark brown eyes widened slightly. To be fair, he did recover quickly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Stark asked, his lips pulling into a smirk which looked _far_ too practiced to be real.

“Something like that,” Loki said– though his previous good mood meant that his tone was far less sharp than it would have been had Stark caught him at any other moment. “Why are you awake? And… in the castle?”

“I had an errand I wanted to run,” Stark said with a shrug. “No rest for the wicked, right?”

Loki couldn’t help but think that if there was one thing Stark wasn’t– it was _wicked._

“I suppose that must be true, since I haven’t had more than three hours sleep in… far too long,” Loki sighed.

And Stark’s frown immediately returned. “Why not?” he asked. “Is it… is it all the trouble with the Hood?”

“Certainly not _just_ that,” Loki shrugged. And as much as the Hood was one of the brighter spots in Loki’s life, Loki found himself speaking the other half of the truth– “But he’s hardly helping matters. Every time he steals the taxes I have to either rearrange the budget or– appease Thor by approving _more_ taxes, which I know will only rile the people further. So I suppose you could say that the Hood is causing me more work, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Loki.”

“Why?” Loki asked. “It’s hardly your fault. It is my duty. And you are doing all you can to help catch the Hood.” Stark looked as if he were about to say something more, but Loki shook his head. He didn’t need pity. “Regardless, I am on my way to the kitchen to get some tea. Will you be coming with me, or going on your way?”

There were a few seconds where Stark was uncharacteristically quiet– and Loki had only just realised what it was he’d said when—

“You… would like me to _join_ you?” Stark asked, sounding surprised.

“Well, since you have something of a habit of showing up at the most inopportune moments, I thought I might as well make use of the company,” Loki said.

“You’re welcome,” Stark said with a grin. “I’m flattered, I truly am—”

“You certainly should be,” Loki replied, his tone light once again. “Not everyone gets such an invitation from a prince at this hour.”

Stark looked like he was about to laugh– but then he sighed instead and averted his gaze, looking down to where his hands were opening and closing into fists by his sides. “I can’t,” he said. The words sounded oddly strained as he glanced back up– and he _was_ smiling again, but. In a regretful sort of way. “Like I said before, I… unfortunately have an errand to run.”

“Very well,” Loki said, glancing away himself. “Then I bid you good luck with your errand. I suppose that I shall see you tomorrow.”

Perhaps his tone was a little harsher than necessary. Loki was more than used to the sting of rejection. It would seem that his earlier thoughts on Stark had been incorrect– the man didn’t wish to spend time with him after all.

But the Hood… well, he still wanted to play the game. And _that_ thought, at least, had Loki’s lips turning back up, even as he took a step in the direction that would take him to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Stark said softly– and Loki turned to face him again. “You know, there _are_ types of teas that help you sleep. You don’t have to get one that will wake you up.”

“Yes, Stark,” Loki said, rolling his eyes. “I am aware.”

There was another pause– and Loki tilted his head when he saw that Stark was staring at him with wide eyes and a strange smile that Loki couldn’t quite interpret.

“What is it?” Loki asked.

“Nothing,” Stark said. “Well, it’s just… normally, you would have snapped at me about twenty times by now.”

“I can still snap at you if my niceness is making you uncomfortable,” Loki replied– and Stark chuckled.

“That’s all right,” he said. “Maybe I should just run into you in the corridors in the middle of the night more often.”

And Loki… smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Prince Loki,” Stark said, inclining his head. “I hope that you have a good night– and that you are able to get some sleep.”

“Goodnight, Stark,” Loki said. And then he watched as Stark turned and– well, Loki wondered if he realised he was walking in the opposite direction from where he had been headed when they had run into each other. Perhaps Stark was simply just as tired as Loki was.

As Loki made his way toward the kitchen, he decided that perhaps he _would_ collect some calming tea, rather than something which would wake him up—

And as he began to brew it, he couldn’t help but wish that… well. That Stark had agreed to go with him to the kitchen, and…

It was ludicrous, and he was just tired. But, he half wished that Stark had neglected to use his title again. At least, just the once. Or that Stark had agreed to go with him to the kitchen, and that they could have had a longer conversation.

Not because he liked the man, of course not. But he just…

With everything going on, with all of the stress and the muddle in his mind about the Hood, it would have been nice to be able to just sit and talk about something as normal as not getting enough sleep.

It would be _nice_, if there was someone he could forget about his responsibilities with, and just… be himself. Just for a while.

But of course, Stark had responsibilities of his own, and Loki was a prince. It had been a ridiculous notion. Clearly, Loki just needed sleep, so that he could push these absurd sentiments out of his head and remember that he found Stark to be nothing more than an annoyance.

—|x|—

The following morning, Loki was woken by frantic knocking on his door– the kind of knocking that could not be ignored. Not when one was a prince.

Once again he used his seiðr to clothe himself – bemoaning the loss of time for a wash as he did so – and then pulled open the door with a scowl—

A scowl which he had to fight to keep in place when the messenger gave him the news.

Somehow– _somehow—_

The Hood had managed to get into the palace that night and had stolen Prince Thor’s favourite set of armour, as well as that of Lady Sif _and_ the Warriors Three. Apparently – or as well as Loki could gather – they had all been exhausted enough from the night before that they had not stowed their armour with the proper precautions, and the Hood had been able to get at it all without hardly any trouble.

And, honestly? It was a _struggle_ for Loki not to laugh.

Thor was _spitting,_ and so were the other warriors. It was a high profile theft, and one that would no doubt mint the Hood plenty of coin– for even though he would have to make the armour unrecognisable to be able to sell it, Loki had little doubt by now that it was something that the Hood would be able to manage.

But the best part about the whole thing?

The taxes had been left alone, so there was no extra work for Loki to do.

And even when Thor called yet _another_ meeting to discuss higher security measures for the following day, even when Sif started to cuss and curse and blame Loki for everything that had happened, even when Stark began to snap back that actually, Loki’s plan with the wagons had _worked_, and if there was anyone to blame for _this_ it was them and their own incompetence in not properly stowing their armour– Loki couldn’t help the amused smile that curved along the shape of his lips.

The Hood really was the most interesting thing in Asgard.

And you know what?

Loki knew that he was going to try just as hard to catch the Hood as he ever had before– but he could admit now that it was not just so that he could win the game.

Oh, no.

He didn’t want to _catch_ the person causing all this chaos. Loki wanted to _meet_ him.

—|x|—

Walking through the corridors of the palace the morning that the Prince of Alfheim was due to arrive, one would never suspect that the country was just shy of not being able to cover all of their costs.

The castle itself was decked out with all the opulence of showing off, not a single expense spared in the decorations. The town was done up as well, garlands stretching across the main street down which the visitors would be arriving. The people were all wearing their best and there was music through the air, the whole place alive and bright and _happy._

At least… it was on the surface. Loki could still see gaunt lines in the faces of the townsfolk who lined the street outside the castle gates, and he knew that those recent taxes had hit them hard. It wasn’t just the hunger– it was the struggle of being able to make ends meet, something he thought that he could appreciate. To a better extent than any of the other nobles, at least, if not in the same manner as the poor. There was haggardness hidden below the opulence, and Loki could only hope that the Prince would not be able to notice.

The most impressive feat of covering over haggardness, however, had to be that pulled off by the king himself. Odin had actually dragged himself from his chambers to greet the Prince of Alfheim, something that he had not done in months. Loki could see that he looked worn, though perhaps only because he knew him so well– his smile was as fragile and yet as perfectly crafted as porcelain, and he held his head high with the same strain as Loki kept his eyes open after getting hardly any sleep.

Loki and Thor stood either side of their father, wearing their best ceremonial armour polished to a sheen. Thankfully – at least from Loki’s perspective – it had been Thor’s _battle_ armour that the Hood had stolen, which while worth a lot more due to the material it had been crafted from, was not the armour he was required to wear while in the presence of a royal from another kingdom– especially a kingdom such as Alfheim.

Alfheim was a rich country, helped along by the fact that they had a higher concentration of mages than Asgard did– and they liked to quite literally wear their wealth on their sleeves. Prince Freyr was decked out with all kinds of silks and jewels, wearing far more finery than any Asgardian would– for while Asgardians certainly valued wealth and gold, they preferred to be ready for a fight at all times. Even at parties they would be capable of simply running into battle while wearing the clothes on their back, never wearing anything cumbersome or ill-suited for warfare. Even Loki’s mother, the Queen, had worn armour more often than dresses when she had been alive. Fine armour, yes, but certainly with an emphasis over the practical than the aesthetic, even if the smiths of Asgard were more than capable of merging the two together.

But those of Alfheim? Well… suffice to say that Prince Freyr arrived wearing more gold on his person than would feed an Asgardian peasant family for a good five years.

And Loki… he couldn’t help a small smile. Because he knew that such a bounty would be impossible for a certain criminal to resist– especially not when it was worn by such a high-risk target.

After all, if the incident with the two wagons had taught Loki anything – and Loki _always_ learned something from every failure – then it was that the Hood was more than willing to take a risk, if it meant that he found the thrill he sought.

That, at least, was something that Loki and the Hood had in common– even if Loki was more likely to be cautious about it.

And of course, if the Hood _did_ care about embarrassing the Crown – something that Loki was still rather sure about, even if he no longer believed it to be one of the Hood’s main motivations – then stealing gold from a _guest_ would be the height of embarrassment.

Loki would probably even enjoy watching the fallout from that– so long as he wasn’t the one who would have to deal with it.

But the point of the matter was that this was an _opportunity–_ for the Hood but therefore, also for Loki.

He was already plotting as Prince Freyr bowed before Odin and then moved to shake the hands of the princes– Loki didn’t even notice when Freyr shook _his_ hand first. He was too busy _thinking_, and the moment that Freyr turned his attention to a slightly-scowling Thor instead, Loki’s hand ducked down into his pocket to curl around the piece of crumpled parchment he had taken to carrying around.

_This time,_ Loki thought. _This time, I’ll get closer._

When the procession moved toward the palace doors and then toward the Hall, Loki already had half a plan in place. He paused by the doors of the palace as Odin and Thor moved inside, and took a step closer to where Freyr was hissing instructions to his servants.

Freyr, unfortunately, noticed him immediately. But that was all right, that was something that Loki would be able to work with.

“Prince Freyr,” Loki greeted, plastering his expression with a smile as he lowered his head slightly in respect– not as much as would be expected from a peasant, but the right amount for one royal greeting another. While Freyr might be the heir to his throne, he _was_ in Loki’s kingdom.

“Prince Loki,” Freyr replied, inclining his head in kind. “I have been hoping to make your acquaintance.”

“It is a pleasure,” Loki said, the words falling from his tongue as if read from a script. “I hope your journey was comfortable?”

“As much as it could be, with the news of a notorious criminal on the loose.” The words could have been taken as provocative, but Freyr was smiling good-naturedly, and Loki understood that he was merely trying to keep the conversation going.

So Loki smiled. “I am glad to hear it,” he said– and then he reached out, and ran a hand over one of Freyr’s trunks. “This is rather fine craftsmanship– I imagine it might have attracted attention by such criminals.”

Freyr’s smile turned into a quick grin. “In Alfheim, we pride ourselves on finery,” he said. “However, I know that in Asgard you find pride in other things. And Prince Loki, I understand that you are the favourite to win the tourney?”

Loki only just managed to prevent himself from snorting. “Oh, no, certainly not,” he replied. “You must be confusing me with my brother.”

“I do not believe that I am. You are the most powerful mage in this kingdom, are you not?” Freyr actually had the gall to lace his tone with surprise. “Surely, you will defeat any of your opponents without so much as breaking a sweat?”

Loki allowed himself a moment’s pause. There was a gleam in Freyr’s eye that made Loki wonder if he was perfectly aware of how seiðr was viewed in Asgard, and was trying to rile Loki up on purpose.

Regardless, Loki wasn’t about to rise to the bait.

“I am afraid that I will be presiding over the affairs,” Loki said. “As my _brother_ will be competing, and in more than one event.”

“Of course, you must do your duty. I will be competing in the targets event, as well as archery,” Freyr said– and Loki only didn’t roll his eyes because of all the practice he’d had dealing with Thor and his friends. “It is a shame that there will be no proper competition for me to test my skills against.”

“I assure you,” Loki said, his tone _pleasant._ “There will be plenty of people for you to test your skills against.”

Freyr’s smile was charming– and Loki got the impression that he meant the nicety far more than Loki did. “Then I look forward to it,” he said. And it looked as if Freyr was about to say something else, but– a movement back near the edge of the group caught Loki’s attention.

“Please excuse me a moment,” Loki said– and then he didn’t wait for Freyr’s answer before he moved even further from the palace, back in the direction of the gatehouse. He had already achieved what he wanted, after all.

There were still quite a few people milling in the inner courtyard, but Loki moved through them. The council had been in attendance to greet the visiting king of course, and they had all been invited to the feast. So most were headed toward the main entrance to the castle, but it seemed like one was trying to slip away, walking back toward the gate instead.

“Stark,” Loki called as he neared. “Where are you going?”

Stark turned as if he were surprised– and his expression closed off a little when he saw that it was Loki. Loki had to school his expression to keep from frowning.

“I have work to complete, Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Unfortunately, I do not get as often to rest and celebrate as I would like.”

There was something bright in Stark’s eyes which almost looked familiar, though Loki could not put his finger on it.

“No rest for the wicked?” Loki asked, his frown winning the battle and creasing his brow.

The corner of Stark’s mouth turned up. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”

Loki’s frown deepened, but he nodded his acceptance.

“I’ll be in my forge if you need me, my prince,” Stark said– and then he turned away again, and began to make his way through the inner gatehouse and back out toward the town.

It was odd behaviour from the man who, over the past few weeks, had seemed to make it his life’s mission to spend as much time with Loki as possible– but Loki shrugged, and turned back to the palace.

If Stark wished to miss out on the feast, then so be it. Loki would not be the one to stop him– not when a far more interesting turn of events was about to get underway.

He hurried his steps as he headed back into the castle, hoping that he would not be missed. Freyr was only just taking his seat as Loki slipped inside, and he took his place on Odin’s left just as the old king lifted his goblet to begin his speech.

But, once again, Loki was hardly paying attention to the words about friendships between kingdoms and bonds that would last for years and generations to come. No, he was focused on his seiðr, focused on keeping his breathing calm and his smile in place, lifting his goblet when required and schooling his expression to keep anyone from being able to see the gears that were turning in his mind.

And as Odin’s speech began to draw to a close and every person in the room reached for their own vessels, Loki’s spare hand once again slid down into his pocket, and he closed his fingers around the piece of parchment that he had carried around with him, waiting for the perfect moment.

There was unlikely to be a moment as perfect as this.

So, as everyone in the room lifted their vessels and tilted back their heads, Loki sent a spark of seiðr down his fingers and into the parchment—

And then he watched the table, waiting for a bright flash of green– for the piece of parchment to appear in front of one of the Asgardian nobles assembled in the room.

It should have been near instantaneous, but… by the time everyone had taken their gulp of drink and were slamming the goblets and tankards back down on the table, there had not been a single spark of Loki’s seiðr anywhere in the room.

Well, that was disappointing, but it was not an entire waste of time. After all, Halvar Lofnson was sitting down at the end of the table near Lord Tyr, looking rather like he would have preferred to be anywhere else. And Bjorn Ragnarson was sitting not too far from Volstagg– and the space before him, too, was devoid of any parchment. Well, theirs were two more names that Loki would be able to cross off from his list, along with all of the nobles who were present at the feast.

To be honest, Loki was rather glad that it was not them. That almost would have been far more disappointing than the lack of appearing parchment had been.

So, even if he didn’t have a confirmation, the suspect pool could at least now be narrowed down considerably.

But… that meant that he had the rest of the feast to sit through now, just waiting for it to end until he could go back to his quarters and think of another plan. And that. Unfortunately. Meant small-talk.

Loki, of course, had been brought up on the skill of handling idle chit-chat– it was unavoidable when one was a royal and had to attend all kinds of feasts such as these. But… Freyr was chatty, chattier than Loki would have liked. And while yes, Loki was perfectly capable of handling that, he was bored and tired and would far rather be getting work done or thinking up a new plan to catch the Hood than sitting and listening to how beautiful the forest around Alfheim was, and how much Freyr’s sister liked to go riding through it.

Loki did, however, enjoy the look of annoyance on Thor’s face when he and Freyr began to talk about seiðr, a conversation that no one else in the Hall was able to join—

But that certainly wasn’t enough to keep him in place when he felt a sudden twinge in his seiðr.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he paused mid conversation.

No… was that? _Could it be that—_

“Are you well?” Freyr asked—

“No,” Loki said immediately, placing the bread he had been eating back down on his plate and getting to his feet. “No, sorry. I think I have a headache. If you would excuse me—”

He wasted no time in leaving the table and hurrying toward the door. None of the others seemed to mind– in fact, he was rather sure that Sif _smiled._ But once again, Loki took no notice– for there was something far more important on his mind.

Freyr’s eyes were still on him, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to care. Let Freyr think that he was weak mage who refused to use his powers to even heal a headache, let alone to enter a tourney, or… whatever that conversation had been earlier. Loki had a goal in mind, and he was not going to let anything get in the way of it.

Loki moved swiftly through the halls, not running but walking quickly enough that his cloak billowed out behind him. When he reached Freyr’s door, he found it locked– but that was far from unexpected.

It was easy enough to open with a small spark of his seiðr—

And then he threw out his hand, a bright green blast cutting across the room and slamming into the single figure bent over the trunks piled beside the bed, waiting to be unpacked. The man gasped as the seiðr curled around him, but no matter how hard he fought, he was no match for Loki’s force of will.

Loki’s lips pressed together in concentration as his seiðr surged, as he moulded it into bonds that pulled the man upright and wrapped around him so that he could not move.

But the man was gasping, still struggling, still _fighting_– and Loki realised there was only one way that this was going to work. So he threw up his hands and the green magic exploded out, letting the man fall to the floor as the seiðr formed an impenetrable bubble around them both instead.

And then… there he was. After all the running and the chasing—

“I suppose you’ve caught me,” the Hood said as he looked up at Loki. And his was voice low and a little bit gruff, as if he were trying to mask it as well as his face.

That made the corner of Loki’s lips turn up in half a smirk– it was almost funny how in trying to hide himself, the Hood was only giving away more clues. For if he were a peasant like Thor believed, then what reason would he have to hide his voice from a prince?

Oh, yes. This was someone who Loki had _spoken_ to– there was no other logical explanation. Though Loki, of course, had already known that—

_Oh._

Perhaps… the Hood knew that _Loki_ knew that he was a noble? That would mean that he was following Loki’s movements, was keeping an eye on what Loki was doing– or perhaps that he had been tipped off by something that Loki had said during a council meeting.

Intriguing.

“I suppose that I have,” Loki said, his hands lowering a little but not falling all the way to his sides. He might have been wearing his ceremonial armour but he was _Asgardian_, and he still had a few daggers quite literally up his sleeves. If the Hood tried anything with his rather unique projectiles, then Loki was going to be ready.

But… he had the feeling that the Hood wasn’t going to do anything. For starters, he was still on the ground, as if he were trying to appear non-threatening.

Though, if Loki were being honest, he didn’t truly trust that in the slightest.

“Is this when you unmask me and take me to Prince Thor for the reward?” The Hood asked, tilting his head– and his tone really did seem more curious than anything, even if… yes, he did look like he was getting ready to bolt.

“I could,” Loki said.

In the green light of his shield, Loki saw the scarf over the man’s mouth twitch. “But will you?”

“I suppose that depends on what happens next,” Loki said. “And how you answer my questions.”

The Hood seemed to grin properly at that, as best as Loki could tell– and then he shifted to sit back on his haunches, his hands folding in his lap. Loki still didn’t trust it.

“What would you like to know?” he asked. “Though, I will warn you. I’m not going to take lightly to you asking me for my name, that’s a hard no. So is asking about my favourite colour, that’s getting far too personal.”

Loki arched a brow, trying not to let his amusement show. Nor the fact that, after the display of magic Loki had just put on, the Hood was still staring up at Loki without a single ounce of fear– he was still capable of making _jokes_. “I don’t think I need to ask. It would seem that your favourite colour is red.”

“It’s not, actually,” the Hood said– and oh yes, he was definitely _taunting_. “But is that really what you wanted to ask?”

Well, of course it wasn’t– but annoyingly, Loki found that receiving only that small titbit of information made him want to know the rest.

But, the Hood was right. There were far more serious topics to discuss—

And with that, Loki finally settled on his answer. “I want to know _why_ you’re doing what you are,” he said. “I know that you’re not stealing for your own good. I know that you’re stealing and then _giving it away_.”

“Oh, you know that, do you?” The Hood was smirking again. It made Loki want to reach out and pull the scarf away from the Hood’s face. And _that_ made him wonder why he hadn’t done it already—

“I do,” Loki said, deciding to focus on something that was a little _easier_ to process. “You say that I’m not as subtle as I think? You have been leaving breadcrumbs everywhere.”

“Only those that I want you to find.” The Hood’s tone of voice made Loki want to grin, so he narrowed his eyes instead.

“And how would _you_ know that?” Loki asked.

“Perhaps I know a lot more than you think I do.”

“And perhaps that goes both ways.” Loki took a few steps closer to where the Hood was still sitting on the ground. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Loki waited– and the Hood’s lips twitched again, this time into a grin.

“Well, let’s put it this way, shall we?” the Hood asked cheerfully. “If you hang me, then you’re _never_ going to find out.”

“You do sound rather calm for someone who knows you’re at risk of being hung,” Loki said, unable to keep the curiosity out of his tone. And– it hadn’t escaped his notice that the Hood had _still_ not yet answered his question.

“I just don’t think that you’re actually going to hang me,” the Hood replied simply.

“Oh?” Loki asked. “I am a prince of Asgard. I have been hunting you for weeks, for _months._ You have been making my life more difficult than you know—”

“And _you’ve_ been writing me notes,” the Hood cut in. Then, slowly, he reached into his coat.

Loki froze, half expecting a weapon, but. The Hood just pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment– a piece of parchment that Loki recognised immediately, for it had been in his possession less than one hour previously. “I would have been flattered that you kept it, if I hadn’t almost fallen off the roof when it appeared in front of me out of nowhere,” the Hood said.

Loki took another step forward, and reached out to take it—

And then the Hood’s other hand whipped out, his fingers curling around Loki’s wrist.

Loki instantly went to flinch back, already calling his seiðr to his other hand—

But then he realised… that the Hood was not attacking him. He was not trying to pull Loki down nor even hold him in place.

He was just _looking_ at the metal of Loki’s vambrace, the gold glinting in the light as the Hood turned Loki’s wrist slightly.

“Castle forged,” the Hood muttered. “You could do better.”

“The castle smith is the best in the kingdom,” Loki snapped, pulling his hand back– and somehow, he wasn’t surprised when the Hood let him go.

“He isn’t,” the Hood said. Then, he leaned down to put one hand on the ground– and Loki stepped back out of the way while the Hood got to his feet. (And if he took the moment of distraction to tuck the parchment back into a pocket, then– no one had to know.) “But, you don’t have to take my word for it—”

“I wouldn’t,” Loki said. “You are wearing _leather_ armour.”

“It came in handy the other night. I outran you like a hare to a—”

“You wouldn’t stand a chance if we started on even ground,” Loki said. “You took me by surprise—”

“Considering you were the one who thought he was setting a trap, I’d say that’s pretty indicative of who would win in a game between the two of us,” The Hood cut in.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Loki replied. “I caught you this time, did I not? And now, I know more about how you work. If we were to meet each other again, you would not be as lucky as you have been.”

“Wouldn’t I?” The Hood lifted his chin, his brown eyes gleaming. It would seem that Loki wasn’t the only one enjoying himself a little more than he should. And standing so close, Loki was almost surprised to find that the Hood was a fair bit shorter than he was– almost a full head. But when the Hood stood straight and tilted his chin up the way that he was, the lack of height did not seem to matter.

“You wouldn’t,” Loki confirmed.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“Does that mean that you _are_ going to let me go?” The Hood tilted his head then– and Loki realised with a jolt that they were standing close enough now that Loki could see every thread in that red scarf. “Because you _still_ haven’t tried to unmask me, and if you do not– then how _can_ you prove that I would have no chance against you, _my prince?”_

Loki couldn’t help it– he breathed a laugh at that.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Or perhaps I am merely speculating. After all, I have caught the _Hood–_ if I take you to Thor now, he _will_ hang you. And many of my problems will simply melt away.”

“Many of your moments of enjoyment will too,” the Hood replied shrewdly– and even though his ability to read Loki so well was more frustrating than anything, Loki’s lips turned up into a grin.

“Perhaps I would _enjoy_ the execution,” Loki suggested. “I assume you will try to escape?”

“Oh, of course I’ll escape,” the Hood said. And the way he said it was so offhand – not entirely arrogant, but more as if he were stating a fact – that it made Loki’s smile widen. “But do I not even get a trial? That might also be entertaining, you know. For both of us.”

“You _have_ been tried,” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“Really? I don’t remember that happening—”

“You must know that Thor has declared war on you, I know you spend time in the castle,” Loki interrupted. “You _are_ guilty, by order of the Crown. And you can hardly deny it, the evidence of your thefts is crystal clear—”

“And yet, you _still_ haven’t tried to unmask me.” The Hood was grinning again. It was _definitely_ annoying. “You could have unmasked me already– you could have unmasked me a thousand times, and yet… you haven’t. Why not?”

Loki sighed, because– well, the answer to that was obvious, wasn’t it?

_It was too easy._

He’d been chasing the Hood for long enough now that he had expected the final moment to be bathed in a sense of victory and triumph, not… whatever this was. And yes, he _could_ unmask the Hood, he could take him to Thor right now. But…

If he did that, then the game would come to an end. And that seemed like such a shame, when in a way, it felt as if they had only just started.

But that? That wasn’t something he wanted to admit, not when it might give the Hood the idea that he held some kind of power over Loki. Which, of course, he _didn’t._

So, instead—

“Perhaps I am simply curious,” Loki said. “You _still_ have yet to answer my question, after all.”

The Hood crossed his arms at that, but he was still smiling– and Loki felt sure that he had said something right.

“You want to know why I am doing what I am?” The Hood clarified– and when Loki nodded, he raised his brows– or at least, it looked like he did, from the little Loki could see of his face. “You have already said that you know I am not stealing for myself, yes?” He didn’t wait for a confirmation. “And you can’t solve the puzzle, my prince? You can’t come up with a single reason as to why I would give stolen _taxes_ to people less fortunate than myself?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something of a barb in that. “At first,” he started, deciding the beginning probably _was_ the best place to start– “I assumed that you were thieving to benefit a political career, since it is clear that you did not need the funds for your own survival. Then I spoke to a woman in the market who stated that you hand out the money you steal, and that you have done so for quite some time. So yes, I know that already– but no, I cannot fathom _why._ Which is, funnily enough, why I asked.”

“Perhaps I just like helping people.” The Hood shrugged. “Does it have to be more complicated than that?”

“Yes,” Loki replied. “Because if it was mere kindness, then you could help the people through far less risky ways. You could use your own money, since your clothing and your status indicate that you have more than enough of it—”

“My status?” the Hood asked, arching a brow.

“Please, don’t act as if I am as slow as Thor and think you a peasant, we both know that ship has long since sailed,” Loki said– but the Hood didn’t smile as Loki had come to expect. In fact, he frowned. Loki filed that reaction away, but didn’t let it affect his words. “So tell me _why,”_ Loki continued, admittedly a little frustrated with the way that the Hood seemed be trying to keep the conversation going around in circles. “Why would you choose to risk your life to help them, when you could do so in a much easier way? Is it the adrenaline?”

The Hood snorted at that. “Trust me, if it was– there would be a much easier way to achieve _that,”_ he said. “But, no. That’s not it.”

“Then what?” Loki asked.

The Hood uncrossed his arms, and he stood tall with his hands balled at his sides as he gave his answer.

“Tell me, my _prince,”_ the Hood said– and for the first time, the Hood spoke Loki’s title in the same tone of voice as any other Asgardian would have. “How much do you know about what your taxes do to the people? I have heard you give voice to an understanding that too many taxes will result in a revolt, but beyond that? Do you _know_ how much your people are suffering?”

Loki opened his mouth to give an answer – because _of course_ he did, he had to know them to be able to help govern them – but he didn’t get the chance, for the Hood was not done.

“If I gave them charity from my own pockets, it would not solve the problem,” the Hood said. “I couldn’t feed them _all_, and even if I could, nothing would ever change. What would happen to them if something happened to me? No, the only way that anything is going to get better in _this_ kingdom is if it comes from the Crown directly– but the Crown doesn’t care. You’ve _heard_ Thor go on about the bloody taxes.”

“Is that why you started sending me the notes?” Loki asked, a sharp sting of something he didn’t want to name digging into his chest. “So that you could attract the attention of a _prince?”_

“What other reason could I have?” the Hood asked. “Listen, you say that the Hood is a thief, but _we_ are the ones who are committing the crimes– and by that, I mean _we_ the _nobility_. Loki, don’t you see? There are people out there starving, _dying_, and we could stop it if only we showed a little kindness. If only things were _different.”_

“So you’re stealing, because you want to change things?” Loki asked, frowning.

“Exactly.”

Loki raised his brows. “Then what about when you stole Sif’s sword? We haven’t found any part of it on the market, not the jewel from the hilt or any castle-forged steel. Unless you went to another kingdom or town to sell it, which I find rather unlikely considering no noble has been missing from the court in recent days, and _you_ have been rather active of late.”

“Okay,” the Hood admitted, looking almost a little sheepish. “_That_ one I did for the thrill.”

“Then where’s the sword?” Loki asked, his smile back in place.

The Hood merely smirked at that. “If I told you that,” he said, “Then you would have no trouble at all working out who I am.”

And that… well, that _was_ tempting. It was another clue. But, Loki let it go, because– “There are still parts of your story that are not making sense,” he said. “If you are on the council, why do you not bring up your concerns during a meeting? Why do you not try to make things better through a method that would be more effective than stealing a few handfuls of coins?” He sighed. “Perhaps there is something that I’m missing. I’m still not certain that I understand.”

The Hood tilted his head, his eyes tightening slightly. “Do you _want_ to?”

Loki thought on it for a moment– hit with the feeling that this was a decision better not rushed. The Hood was a _criminal_, no matter his motivation– and by not turning him in now, when Thor had already instated the law that called for his head at all costs? That was tantamount to treason.

And yet…

Well.

Loki had never been able to resist giving in to his curiosity.

“Yes,” he said. “I think I would.”

“Then come with me,” the Hood said, holding out his hand. “Let me show you.”

And despite all of the facts, despite all of his knowledge, and against his better judgement—

Loki reached out, and he took the Hood’s hand.


	5. Testimony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you **STARSdidathing** for helping me straighten out my issues with this chapter! <s>Also I really need to learn to stop leaving things to the last minute.</s>  
  
**Square B3—** _AU: Vigilante._

There’s something thrilling about running hand in hand through the night, keeping to the shadows and avoiding all the guards. Thor had, of course, insisted on extra Einherjar in the castle for Prince Freyr’s arrival, so the halls were crawling with golden cloaks far more so than usual. So perhaps it should not have been surprising that when Loki had dropped his bubble of seiðr, the Hood was quick to lead Loki over to the balcony. And, admittedly, Loki wasn’t _keen_ on that plan, but he was more than curious to see the way that the Hood managed to avoid the guards. He neglected to mention that he would be able to use his seiðr to get them though the corridors unnoticed, and he followed the Hood out into the open air.

When they paused at the edge of the railing, the Hood turned back to face Loki with a gleam in his eye.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Loki snorted. “No.”

But he followed the Hood anyway, so– he supposed that he was more the fool.

They had to let go of each other as they climbed up onto the roof, both of them nimble and agile enough that there was hardly any risk of falling. Which of course, after seeing the way that the Hood had been able to race across the thatched roofs of the town a few nights before did not come as any surprise to Loki. But the thing that did draw Loki’s gaze, that made his eyes widen and his thoughts spark with realisation was the way that the Hood’s gaze never stayed still, the way that he _watched_ and he _waited. _

The Hood didn’t have seiðr, and he didn’t have great strength like Thor or speed like Sif. No, and it wasn’t that he held some kind of skill that enabled him to hide from other’s gaze—

He was simply _clever. _

It seemed that he knew the guard’s routes and rotations, and he knew when to wait and when to _go_. He slunk along the sides of the roof and ducked across open spaces when it was safe, as if he had worked out the patterns in his mind and knew every single blind spot that he could use to his advantage. It spoke not only of planning and a familiarity with the castle, but also of the Hood’s incredible intelligence.

And, Loki… well, he found himself in awe.

Loki had always loved sneaking about– it was a habit which had got him in plenty of trouble while he was younger. But this was on a level that Loki had never quite managed—

And he _loved_ it.

When they reached the ground – with not a single Einherjar so much as glancing their way – the Hood took Loki’s hand again almost absentmindedly, and then tugged him along as they _ran_ through the streets.

Loki’s heart was pounding, and not only from the exertion. He loved the exhilaration, he loved the sound of their boots over the cobbles, he loved the feel of the Hood’s hand in his own. They raced through the town and past the markets, cutting between houses and even running over the rooftops just as they had a few nights before– only this time, they did so together.

And by the time they finally came to a slow stop in the poorer part of the town Loki’s lips were pulled into a grin, and despite the fact that his breath was coming in pants he felt like he could have continued running for days.

“Hold here,” the Hood said as they paused in a small alley between two buildings, giving Loki’s hand a small squeeze before letting go– or trying to, at least. For Loki reached out to grab the Hood’s wrist with his other hand, not unlike what the Hood had done to him earlier in Prince Freyr’s guest quarters.

Loki arched a brow. “Is this the part where I get mugged?” he asked.

The Hood glanced down to his wrist before meeting Loki’s gaze with a curious glint to his eyes. “I merely need you to wait here a moment while I collect something,” he said. “I can’t have you knowing _all_ my secrets now, can I? Not when you wanted us to start on even footing.”

“Now that just sounds like something a thief would say,” Loki pointed out, his tone laced with the amusement of his good mood.

“Then I guess you’re just going to _have_ to trust me,” the Hood replied. And then he slipped free of Loki’s hold and dashed down the alley, leaving Loki alone.

Glancing around, Loki took careful note of his surroundings, as well as how long it took for the Hood to return. He was rather sure that he would be able to find his way back to this spot given enough time, even despite the dim lighting. And it didn’t take the Hood very long at all, in the end– wherever he had gone couldn’t have been far. Loki parted his lips to comment on that fact, but…

He paused, his gaze caught by the small canvas sack the other man was holding in one hand– a sack that quite clearly was bulging with coin.

The Hood held it up in the air as he noticed Loki’s attention, tilting his head toward it theatrically. “A friend of mine sold the armour I stole from your brother,” the Hood said, his lips quite clearly smiling under the dark red scarf. “So we don’t have to worry about these coins being marked.”

“I could have simply removed the marks,” Loki shrugged. “It would not have been difficult.”

The Hood arched a brow. “Oh?” he asked. “And here I thought you still wanted to catch me.”

“I _already_ caught you,” Loki replied. Then he stepped a little closer, and he curled a hand around the top of the sack– his fingers brushing over Hood’s as he did so. The touch felt galvanising, and Loki’s smile widened as he said– “I could still take you back.” But his tone was teasing, and the Hood’s eyes gleamed.

“Yeah, you could,” he said, leaning forward just a _little_ in a manner that made Loki’s breath catch. “But you _won’t._ You’re too curious.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes.” The Hood shifted his hand and pressed the bag more firmly into Loki’s before holding out his other. “And you wanted to know why I do what I do. But if you do want to turn back, then this is your last chance.”

Loki met his gaze unflinchingly. “Why would I want to do that? You promised me the truth.”

“Oh, I’ll open your eyes,” the Hood replied cockily. “The only question that remains is whether you’ll thank me for it.”

Feeling his smile widen, Loki did not hesitate before giving his answer. “Then why waste any more time before finding out?”

The Hood gave half a shrug. “Do not say that I didn’t warn you, then,” he said. “But…” his gaze trailed over Loki’s form, and Loki fought down the warmth that threatened to bloom over his cheeks. “You may need some kind of disguise.”

Loki’s lips turned up at that, and then he tugged at his seiðr, letting it twist over him. Shapeshifting was something he was _good_ at, something that had always come naturally– and there was half a moment where he simply considered making himself look like someone else entirely. But… why do that, when there was a far more entertaining option at hand?

So rather than changing entirely, Loki merely smoothed out the recognisable shapes of his armour, causing the gold embellishments to melt away and the black and green pieces of his coat to turn into a dark colour that was a mixture of both. A forest green scarf tied over the lower half of his face, and then he tugged up the hood that his seiðr had formed on the coat.

Then he looked to the Hood, his smile turning just a little bit smug.

“Very funny,” the Hood replied, though Loki could hear the amusement in his tone.

“If it works for you, why not for me?” Loki asked. “And besides, mine is clearly in the far superior colour.”

“Maybe if you’re trying to avoid a grass stain,” the Hood mused. “Not so much for those of us who don’t want our foes realising that we’re bleeding.”

“I think it might be a little more disconcerting to see a person who is bleeding and _still_ will not stop coming at you,” Loki countered. “That shows strength—”

“And allows your opponent to pinpoint exactly _where_ you are injured,” the Hood shot back. His eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to puzzle something through. “You know what?” he asked. “Attacking head on doesn’t seem like the stance you would normally take. You’re not just against the colour red because it’s Thor’s colour, are you?”

“Of course not,” Loki scoffed. “I merely do not believe it is the best choice when attempting to remain covert.”

The Hood didn’t even seem to bother to mull that over before giving his all too amused reply. “Of course not.”

Loki tried to bite back his reply at that, and while he _did _manage to divert the barb that was on the tip of his tongue, he couldn’t resist asking– “Did _you_ choose the colour because it was Thor’s?”

“Nah,” Hood replied brightly. “The red coat was going cheap at the market that day, and I thought I might as well just own it after that. Go big or go home, right?”

The most frustrating thing about that statement was the fact that Loki actually couldn’t tell whether it was the truth or not. He huffed, his eyes glancing down to the ground.

“Hey.”

Loki met the Hood’s gaze again, and noted with surprise that he seemed to have softened once again.

“I’m sorry. It’s a good disguise. Well, except…”

Loki held _very_ still as the Hood raised his hand, and then gently, _softly_, he tucked an errant lock of Loki’s black hair behind his ear, so that it was better hidden under the hood he wore.

“There,” the Hood said– and Loki very nearly trembled as the Hood’s fingers brushed over the scarf covering Loki’s cheek as he pulled back his hand. “Much better.” Then he smiled under his own scarf. “But, it’s a good thing it’s dark. Don’t go too close to anyone, your eyes _are_ pretty… recognisable.”

“We can’t all have brown eyes,” Loki replied, rolling the green eyes in question– glad for the distraction from the flush that had finally fought its way up his neck to decorate his face.

“Well, that’s good,” Hood replied, holding Loki’s gaze. “I’ve grown rather fond of yours.”

Loki wondered what the Hood could mean by that, since they had only just this night been in close enough proximity for him to come to know Loki’s eye colour. After all, that was not generally the first thing that someone might notice about a person. Well, unless of course the Hood sat near to Loki during council meetings, perhaps. But before he could contemplate it further—

“We had better get going, my prince,” Hood said, holding out his hand once more. Loki slid their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world, and then they were off– Loki holding the Hood’s hand with one of his own, the sack of coins clutched in the other.

This time, they didn’t go far– they paused outside a building, a slightly run-down house that looked like… well, no, it looked like even in its prime it would not have been a particularly pleasant place to live, at least, not by Loki’s standards. It was tall but narrow, and the upper windows were entirely dark– but the shutters on the lower floor were slung wide open, and they had a candle burning so that Loki and the Hood could see right inside.

“What are we doing here?” Loki asked.

The Hood glanced at him strangely. “Don’t you already know?”

Well, yes, Loki supposed that he would be able to make a guess, but… he hadn’t expected that _this_ was what the Hood would want to show him. He’d thought that the Hood might show him how he stole things, or… how he chose _who_ to steal from. But…

He glanced down to the sack he held in his hand, his fingers starting to strain under the substantial weight of the silver. Perhaps he should have expected that it would be something like this, but he had been so caught up in the exhilaration of it all that he had almost forgotten the seriousness of what they were doing.

“How do you usually hand it out?” Loki asked, offering the bag. When the Hood took it from him, Loki rubbed at his fingers.

The Hood just smirked, the gesture obvious in the glint of his eyes– and then he pulled a small, cloth pouch from one of his pockets.

“Watch.”

He took a small handful of coins from the sack to put into the pouch, then fiddled with something on his wrist—

And then he pushed forward with his hand in a sudden, thrusting movement, not unlike a punch save that his palm faced forward and his fingers flattened out as he shoved them through the air.

There was a faint _twang_, not unlike that of a bowstring—

And then the pouch was cutting across the space between them and the house, and the bolt slammed into the window shutters with a dull _thud,_ pinning the pouch in place.

Loki’s eyes widened, and he turned to examine the Hood’s arm, hoping for a better look.

“What are you using to—”

“Not right now,” the Hood said– though he wasn’t being dismissive or guarded. He merely nodded toward the brightened window. “There, look.”

As much as he wanted to learn about the Hood’s weaponry, Loki did as he was bid, looking back over to the window.

“What do you think?” the Hood asked.

Loki frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

The Hood nudged Loki’s shoulder. “What do you think about _them?”_

Loki considered the scene more closely. The woman had just reached the window and was reaching out with one hand– and even across the distance Loki could see that her fingers were trembling. When she pulled the bolt from the pouch and then glanced inside, the joy that spread across her face was somewhat indescribable. Loki felt his own eyes widen along with her smile as she turned to the man whom must have been her husband, holding out the bag and calling for him to come and see– and Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away.

It was only a small amount of coin, but… these people were acting as if they had been gifted an entire kingdom.

And even though he had not responded to the Hood’s question, it would seem that his expression was answer enough.

“Come on, my prince,” the Hood said, gently taking Loki’s hand and tugging on it like before– and Loki began to wonder if those would become the words that he heard the Hood say the most. “Let’s move on.”

They took a route through the town which appeared to be predetermined, moving quickly through the streets in short bursts. They stopped at many houses, and the Hood wasted no time in distributing the wealth that he had gained from stealing Thor’s armour. Sometimes, he shot the coins with his mysterious bolts as he had the first time– others, he simply left a pouch by a door, or sitting on the sill of a window. Once, he even sprinkled some coins in a garden patch, and explained with a small smile that the old man who lived in the house would pick them up when he tended to his flowers in the morning. It was moments like those that had Loki realising that the Hood actually _knew_ the people he was handing the coins out to. Not in the way that he might have known them personally, as Loki was still more than certain that the Hood was a noble at court. But more… that he had made the _effort_ to learn about them, to know as much as he could not only so that he could give them what they needed, but because…

Well, the more houses they visited, the more Loki came to realise just how much the Hood _cared._

Perhaps the thing that Loki had the most difficulty comprehending was when the Hood paused right in the middle of a roof they had been crossing, so suddenly that Loki almost ploughed straight into him.

“What is it?” Loki asked, glancing around and half expecting that an Einherji would jump out at them.

“Down there,” the Hood said quietly, gesturing with a hand. Loki narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the darkness—

“Have they painted a mark on their door?” he asked. The symbol was not one that he recognised– a white circle within an outer ring, the concentric shapes connected with a few internal lines like the spokes of a wheel.

“Not paint,” the Hood replied. “It’s chalk, ground up and mixed with water. There’s a whole heap of it not far from town and it washes off easy, so there’s less chance of being caught out.”

That did make sense but, still, Loki thought that marking the door must be a risky practice– even if it was true that it had remained free from the Crown’s notice. At least, it had until now. Although… to be entirely honest, Loki didn’t stop to wonder _why_ the Hood was showing him all of these things, letting him in on all of these secrets. He was too caught on the _truths_ themselves, feeling like he was starting to see his own kingdom for the very first time.

As the Hood hurried down to give the marked house their share of the coin – more than their share it would seem, as the pouch left on that doorstep was bulging to a far greater extent than any of the others had been – Loki understood what this was. It wasn’t hard to puzzle out. It was clear that the houses who marked their doors were _asking_ for help, rather than simply waiting for the Hood to bring them some offered assistance.

“How do you know they need it?” Loki asked, the words falling from his lips before he’d properly even thought over them.

The Hood didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know what Loki was talking about. “I don’t,” he said. “But they know that I can’t help _everyone_, not as much as I would like. Not yet. They understand that what they take, they take from someone else, and so they don’t ask for any more than what they need.”

“That sounds too good to be true,” Loki said.

“There are always a few bad seeds in every bunch.” The Hood shrugged. “But the threat of starvation is more than enough for most to become a little more willing to work as a team. You see… your kingdom is not just land and wealth and workers, Prince Loki. It is a people, a community– and the majority of them want what is best for each other.”

Loki frowned, thinking on that– and the Hood gave him the time to do so as they continued on their way. Loki, of course, had known that the people were struggling through hard times, he’d seen the haggard expressions every time he had ridden through town. But he hadn’t realised the true extent of it.

For Loki and the rest of the castle, a loss of a wagon of taxes meant one less feast, or perhaps it simply meant that they had to go another month or so without buying a new piece of finely carved furniture. But for these people, for the majority of the people in Asgard, even a small increase in the amount that they had to give to the Crown could mean teetering over the fine line of poverty and falling into starvation.

There_ were_ those that were already over the edge– as they moved further into the darker parts of the town, they came across the kinds of people that Loki would never normally see, those that were sick or starving, those that had _nothing_ left.

And everywhere they went, whether they were handing out coins or just passing through – even in the darkest part of the night – a single whisper followed behind them like a prayer upon the midnight breeze.

_“Norns bless you, Hood.” _

Loki swallowed– and then glanced down in surprise as the Hood pressed a handful of coins into his palm.

“That’s all that’s left,” the Hood said, holding up the empty sack as if in proof. “You do it, this time.”

Realising that they had emptied the sack entirely – when it had been so heavy at the start – truly did hammer home that _this_ would never be enough. Even with the money that the Hood had been taking, there was not enough for every hungry person in the town – let alone the kingdom – to have a handful. And as Loki considered the number of coins that he had just been handed, he was able to recognise that the single handful wasn’t much at all. Of course, there was a chance that he could be biased– as the person in charge of keeping track of the entire kingdom’s finances, he dealt in large amounts of silver every day so any amount might seem small. The pile in his hands, though… it was not even enough to buy a single, basic dagger.

But whether it was a fortune or enough to get a family through to the end of the week didn’t matter, because to those poor people who were bending under the weight of the Crown’s taxes? Even just a single coin or two was a lifeline_._

“I think I see now, what you are trying to tell me,” Loki whispered, looking up from the paltry amount of coins to meet the Hood’s gaze. “They need help. If they don’t…”

“They’re going to starve,” the Hood finished, his voice grim. “Most of the kingdom will starve.” He let out a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped more than just a little. “Some of these families might look like they are fine on the outside, and that might paint a picture that seems far fairer than the truth. But these people truly _are_ on the verge of starving. They don’t have anything to spare, for every single piece of coin that they earn is needed to keep them alive. They live on little more than bread and the smallest scraps of the cheapest meat and vegetables, and even then they can barely get by. If just one thing falls out of balance – say, an increase in their taxes – then they will not be able to eat. If they can’t eat, they get sick. If they get sick, they can’t work. And if they can’t work, then they can’t eat. It’s a cycle that they will never be able to break out of, not unless something is done to help. Not unless _someone_ helps them get back on their feet. That’s all I’m doing.”

“You truly are just giving it away,” Loki whispered, his chest aching as the Hood’s voice painted a picture that he could no longer ignore. “Every bit of it. You became a criminal to help them, because the Crown’s taxes are bleeding them dry.”

“They need it more than I do,” the Hood agreed. “And they need it far more than the people I take it from. And, yes, every time the taxes are raised, it brings all these people closer to starvation. There is no help from the Crown when _you_ are the ones raising the taxes in the first place so_ yes,_ my prince. I have chosen to become a criminal, to risk _my_ life to help them, because _someone _has to.” Every word was like the lash of a whip, and the Hood’s brown eyes burned with a certain, unrelenting fierceness as he made his final point. “And yes, I am taking the law into my own hands– because when the law is _wrong?_ I believe that the only right thing left to do is to break it.”

Loki found himself staring, his breath caught in his throat. “Who _are_ you?” he whispered– not quite meaning the words in the same way as he would have, had he asked them only a few hours before.

“I’m a citizen of Asgard, and I want to make this kingdom a better place for everyone,” the Hood replied– and as he met Loki’s gaze, the softness in his eyes had returned. “Is that not all that matters?”

Loki smiled, forced to allow that the Hood was right. “You must have a name you would prefer me to call you, though,” he tried. “If not your true name, then at least something. Something other than _the Hood.”_

The Hood ducked his head. “I shall have to think on it. But for now… don’t you have a delivery to make?”

Loki glanced back down to his hand, and smiled as an idea came to mind. The Hood had his methods of sharing out the coins, but Loki would use his own– and he _did_ so enjoy the way that the Hood’s eyes widened as he curled his seiðr around the silver, vanishing them from his hand and making them reappear on the doorstep of the house opposite the roof they were currently perched upon.

“There,” he said. “How was that?”

“We’ll make an outlaw of you yet,” the Hood said, a spark of awe lacing his tone.

They stayed where they were for a little while longer, just watching, waiting, listening to the sounds of the town as it began to wake back up. They spoke in quiet tones, in slight whispers that floated between them with far more ease than Loki had ever found talking to anyone else. And it was only as the sun began to peak over the buildings that Loki realised just _how long_ they had spent on that roof, sitting opposite each other and just… enjoying the company.

He sighed as he realised that he would have to go, surprising himself by how reluctant he felt toward heading to bed. Usually, finally being able to at least _attempt_ to get some rest was the highlight of the day.

The Hood seemed just as reluctant as well– and when Loki went to bid him goodbye, the Hood simply shook his head.

“I’ll walk you back.”

And as a smile curled along the corners of his lips – a smile that had to be the hundredth of the night – Loki knew there was no way he was going to argue.

It almost felt more peaceful than it had at the start of their night. They walked side by side, their hands entwining as if by habit now, their voices dancing together along the quiet streets. They still had to keep out of the way of the guards, however, and as they neared the palace gates, the Hood went to pull Loki around to the side.

“If we go around this way, we’ll be able to get back to your rooms without needing to worry too much about the guards,” he murmured.

But Loki tugged him back. “You have already divulged so many of your secrets,” Loki said. “This time, I believe that it is my turn.”

Loki considered his next move for a second– but only a second, before deciding to just go with for it. He didn’t necessarily _need_ contact to be able to shroud them both, and for the little help contact could provide their hands would be enough. But… it was a _chance_, and. Well. Why not?

The Hood’s eyes widened as Loki stepped closer to him, moving slow enough that the Hood could pull back if he wanted– but he didn’t. He was frozen for a moment as Loki’s arm wrapped around the Hood’s waist, but… then, it almost felt like the Hood was _leaning into it._

And when Loki twisted his seiðr around them both, the Hood actually shuddered– but… Loki didn’t think it was in a bad way.

“Whoa,” the Hood said. “Is that—”

“It’s all right,” Loki said quickly, wanting to cover all eventualities, just in case. “It won’t hurt you.”

“Yeah,” the Hood replied simply, voice still laced with a bit of wonder. “I know.”

Loki paused, and looked down to him in surprise.

But when the Hood just smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling with it– Loki only smiled back.

It was quick work making their way into the castle as little more than shadows, slipping past the guards and through the wards that Loki had set up himself with ease. And when the door to Loki’s quarters closed behind them Loki was almost disappointed to let the Hood go, though the Hood’s next words wiped the thought from his mind.

“Now that’s a trick that I wish I could learn,” the Hood said brightly. “Your seiðr… is amazing.”

“Most people are scared by it,” Loki said, his voice almost curious. He pulled his scarf down from his face, and for a fleeting moment he desperately wished that the Hood would do the same– yet, somehow, learning the Hood’s identity was hardly even an afterthought.

The Hood tilted his head. “Then why did you use it with me? That wasn’t the first time tonight, either. Weren’t you worried that I would be scared?”

Loki shrugged. “Perhaps I just knew that you wouldn’t be.”

The Hood let out a breath at that, deeper than a sigh but slower than a gasp of surprise. Then, _slowly,_ he lifted a hand– and Loki wondered if he was going to touch Loki’s hair again, or maybe even his cheek—

But then the hand fell back to his side, and the Hood glanced slightly to the right.

It was Loki’s turn to sigh, especially as he followed the Hood’s gaze to the balcony.

“You need to go.” It wasn’t a request, not at all. Just an observation.

“Yeah.” The Hood’s eyes were a little sad– but then they seemed to focus on something over Loki’s right shoulder. And then, rather than heading for the balcony, when the Hood stepped around Loki he moved toward Loki’s writing desk.

Loki watched in half confusion as the Hood picked up Loki’s favourite quill, and then ferreted about for a bit of parchment. It wasn’t that he was worried – Loki had stopped leaving important documents on his desk since that very first note – but he didn’t quite understand. Surely the Hood wasn’t writing another one? Not when Loki was right there beside him?

But, as the Hood began to write, Loki thought that must be exactly what he was doing.

“You could save the ink and simply _say_ what you wanted,” Loki said, stepping a little closer.

“I know,” the Hood said absently, his attention on the parchment even as his eyes flickered over to Loki for half a second. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Loki couldn’t help it. “Well, I have had fun talking to you tonight. And I think I would like to do it again.”

The Hood froze apparently mid-sentence, his quill hovering just over the parchment as his head snapped up to look at Loki, eyes going wide. “You… would?”

“I suppose I _am_ thanking you for it, after all,” Loki mused. The Hood was still staring, and Loki didn’t bother to hide his smile, nor his amusement– especially as he pointed out the cause of at least half of it. “Also, your quill is dripping.”

The Hood cursed as he glanced down to his now blotched page before quickly finishing off what he was writing. He seemed to pause as he reached the end, but only for a moment before he wrote his last couple of words and then lay the quill down with a flourish.

He picked up the parchment gingerly, as if afraid that he would smudge the ink– and then he carried it over to Loki, and… hesitated, for a moment.

“Here,” he said. “I think I’d like to do this again, too.”

Then, quite out of nowhere, the Hood leaned up on the tips of his toes and pressed his scarf-covered lips to Loki’s cheek.

Loki’s eyes widened—

“Good morning, my prince,” the Hood whispered, lightly touching his forehead to Loki’s temple—

And then the Hood was gone, ducking out from Loki’s arms and hurrying into the darkness without a backward glance.

Loki brushed his fingers over his cheek, his heart slowing to a more natural rhythm– and then he smiled as he looked down to his other hand, into which the Hood had pressed the note before he had left.

The parchment was smooth, the first note from the Hood that was entirely unfolded– and as his fingers hovered over the words, he once again felt a warm blush creep over his cheeks. This time, thankfully, there was no one there to see it.

[_My prince / Meet me by the gatehouse / in 3 night’s time. / Your thief._]

The invitation to meet again was one thing, but it was the way that the Hood had signed his name that Loki could not tear his gaze from, could not stop trailing his fingers over. The other man could have simply listed himself as the Hood, or nothing at all– it was not as if there were any doubt who the letter was from, and that is what he had done before. But instead of a simple nickname, or the moniker by which he was known to the rest of the kingdom… the Hood had given Loki something else. Something _more_.

Still smiling softly, Loki allowed his coat to shift back to its proper form as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled parchment that the Hood had handed him hours earlier. He smoothed it out, and then stowed both notes carefully away in a drawer, wanting them to stay somewhere safe.

And even as he prepared to fall into bed with the warm streams of sunlight just finally entering the room, the image in his mind of those words scrawled in green ink had him flooding with warmth.

_Your thief. _

Well.

The Hood sure had stolen _something_, but… Loki was a little afraid to admit what it was that his thief now held in his hands.


	6. Motive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square B4**— _Prompt: Forthcoming._

Sometimes, Loki wanted to murder Thor.

Not in the real kind of way– he never actually considered _doing_ it. Despite his flaws, Loki _did_ love his brother, and he knew he would likely miss the oaf if he ever actually fell prey to one of his idiocies.

No, he often wanted to murder Thor in the way that any person has ever wanted to murder their sibling– that is to say he felt an incredible frustration at almost every move Thor made, but _especially_ when he made such a move that would cause Loki far more hours of work.

And this… well. Loki had felt a little like he was floating from the moment he had woken up, but the moment he had sat down for breakfast and the words had fallen from Thor’s lips, it felt like his happiness faded out of him with his sigh.

You see, they had been discussing when the best time to hold the tourney would be for quite some time, but with Freyr finally arrived, the decision needed to be made as soon as possible. There were already lords arriving from nearby manors and even from neighbouring kingdoms, wishing to try their hand at the prize money.

And they’d still yet to set a _date._

Loki, despite the smaller timeframe it would give them to get everything ready, believed it would be a better idea to hold the tourney prior to the talks with Odin.

Thor, however, wanted to hold them _after._

They both had their reasons that were set in logic, which was rather unusual for Thor– and Loki might have been proud of him if he did not wholeheartedly disagree with his conclusion.

Thor, you see, believed that once the talks with Odin had gone well, Freyr would be happy and merry and less likely to fight with fierce violence in the tourney, likely giving Thor the upper hand to take the laurels.

Loki, on the other hand, actually considered the talks themselves to be of greater importance than the forthcoming tourney. Yes, shocking, he knew. And he believed that it would be more beneficial to hold the tourney prior to the talks, as that way, the festivities would put Freyr in more amicable mood, he would be able to view more of Asgard and possibly form more of a fondness for the kingdom, and therefore would be more likely to agree to a decision that would be of greater benefit to Asgard than otherwise.

Unfortunately, it seemed that most of the council held the same views as Thor, and Loki’s ideas were shot down before he could even properly explain them. And while they all began making plans for getting everything ready for the tourney, Loki actually found himself glancing over to Stark, knowing the man well enough by now to believe that he would be able to recognise the superior logic in Loki’s plan.

But, Stark did not even appear to be listening. He was staring rather pointedly at the surface of the table in front of him, his fingers tracing the grain in the polished wood somewhat absently.

Loki chastised himself as he looked away. He should have known far better than to hope to find help there– to find support anywhere in this council room. He should have known better than to expect that someone he had spoken to only a handful of times would speak out against _Thor_ in his favour, even if Stark had been willing, in the past, to speak out against Sif. It was hardly the same thing.

But even then, Stark’s actions were somewhat puzzling, though Loki believed he had been able to tease out a motive– even if his suspicions left something of a sour taste in his mouth.

Stark had acted like he cared, like Loki was someone he actually _wanted_ to spend time with. But then, when it came down to when something actually _mattered_ – when Loki asked him if he wanted to have a cup of tea together, or when Loki needed support in the council – there was nothing.

Loki had almost allowed himself to be drawn in by the way that Stark had seemed to treat him like a real person, rather than the mercurial prince who made things _difficult_– but no more. He knew better than to allow himself to be caught up in the politics of friendships when there were such more important things to be worrying about.

Still, that left Loki without a voice of support, and Thor’s proposal was the one near unanimously agreed upon.

“Besides,” Sif said after the decision was made, her smile rather fierce. “The tourney will hardly make the elf more amicable toward us. It is not as if he has a chance of winning.”

Loki drew in a deep breath, and reminded himself that throwing a dagger in her direction would be far more trouble than it was worth.

Of course, he still had not thought on whether he would reinforce upon her how ill-advised it was to steal his possessions, since he had unfortunately been rather caught up with other goings on. But perhaps an opportunity might still present itself. Although… he didn’t know what Sif’s motive had been in that instance, either, and _that_ was certainly something that would most likely require further attention.

But Loki managed to make it through to the end of the meeting without committing a murder, and the date for the tourney was set—

Well. As set as it could be, given that it would take place as soon as discussions between Odin and Freyr were completed– discussions which could range from a single day to several weeks, given that they were talking about peace. In Loki’s experience, there never was a topic for conversation more fraught with disagreement.

Loki _had_ been invited to the meetings, but he did not see a legitimate reason for accepting. He would possibly be given the duty of scribe, but other than that he knew that he would serve little purpose. Odin would not listen to his opinion, would likely not wish to hear it spoken aloud at all given that Freyr had come to speak with the king, not a second prince. And while Loki _could_ remain silent when the situation called for it, the circumstance was not one that he wished to place himself in– especially not at a time when he already had so many other things to do.

No, Loki was far better off using his time to chase more important pursuits—

Including…

Well.

The night before had been, quite truthfully, one of the most exhilarating of Loki’s life, and he was more than keen to ensure that the experience could be repeated– not, of course, that he imagined any one moment with the Hood could be anywhere close to the same as the next.

The Hood.

_His_ _thief. _

Despite the fact that the limitation on his slumber and the thrice damned council meeting left Loki feeling more than a little a drained, his boost in mood made up for it a thousandfold. As he left the council chamber, Loki almost had something of a bounce in his step– or rather, he would have, had he not been taught from a young age to carefully hold his poise.

Especially since, with the tourney now no longer a responsibility that _Loki_ had to worry about, with the taxes remaining untouched and with no need for further paperwork and with no new meetings to attend… Loki found himself with some free time.

And he knew _exactly_ what it was that he wanted to do with it.

He headed toward the library, already having brought everything he needed with him in a bag slung over his shoulder. For once, he wasn’t heading in there just to complete work in a place that he was less likely to fall asleep in than his own rooms– he had something very specific in mind.

And he did hope that the distractions of the jovialities with the visiting party of elves would be enough to divert anyone else who might otherwise be in the library, especially those who would be wanting to get outside after being caught in the council meeting. But, unfortunately, Loki had hardly made it a single corridor before someone was calling his name.

“Prince Loki!”

The familiar voice caused Loki to clench his jaw, but he did not even falter in his step as he continued on, reminding himself of Stark’s silence in the council. If Stark wished to speak with him, he could do so through the official avenues, same as everybody else.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that Stark was not so easily dissuaded– and as Loki continued smoothly down the hall, the sound of hurried footsteps quickened behind him until Stark was walking by his side.

“Loki—”

“Have you once again forgotten how to address royalty?” Loki asked, his tone slipping into a drawl edged with frost.

“I…” Stark seemed a little taken aback, as if _surprised_ by the tone of Loki’s response– but he shook his head and ploughed on forward, clearing his throat. “Your _highness_. I apologise, I merely wished to speak with you. If you have the time?”

Loki turned his head slightly, though he continued walking at a pace that forced Stark to skip a couple of steps to keep up. “I suppose I do,” he muttered. Then, a little louder– “Was there a particular topic that you wished to discuss?”

“Uh. Nah. I just. Well I was hoping that you weren’t too put out by the final decision in that council meeting?”

“I thought you might have agreed with me,” Loki said, keeping his voice flat and his eyes straight ahead. “Surely you can see the benefits we might have had if the tourney were to take place first, bolstering friendships _before_ the discussions of peace were to begin?”

Stark seemed to be hiding a wince at that.

“Well?” Loki asked.

“I, uh.” Stark cleared his throat again. “I actually… agreed with Prince Thor?”

_That_ caused Loki to pause. So it wasn’t that he simply had not wished to speak up, then– he was another who believed Thor’s mind to be sharper than Loki’s. Something that Loki never could manage to wrap his head around.

Loki narrowed his eyes, and Stark held up his hands.

“Look, there are hordes of people in the town waiting for the start of the tourney, and the more they train, the more they damage their armour and their weapons, and thus the more they need repairs and replacements. Holding off on the tourney and keeping them here longer is really good for business.”

“So you remained silent on the matter out of selfishness?” Loki asked– and the moment he said the words, he wished that he had not. Only because they were rather uncouth, of course. It had nothing to do with the look that crossed Stark’s face.

“I did not speak up because I would not throw my support behind something that I did not believe in. Not even to gain the favour of a prince.” From the way that Stark’s eyes widened then, it seemed that he too had said something that gave him cause for regret. But he appeared to steel himself as he continued in the face of Loki’s cold stare. “Prince Loki, I know that you have the best interests of the _kingdom_ at heart. But that does not mean that my opinions will always remain the same as yours.”

For half a moment, Loki wondered at Stark’s insolence– believing that an opinion of a man like Stark mattered to someone like Loki. But then… Loki fought the feeling down.

Because– had he not learned the night before how important the thoughts and needs of individual people _should be?_ Had he not decided to try and be better than a prince who sat in his palace and dictated the way of the world based upon the lines of the intangible _big picture_, rather than looking for what was needed for his subjects to thrive?

It was something that Stark had just thrown back into Loki’s face, was it not?

_The best interests of the kingdom. _

But Asgard… was a _people. _And it was the needs of the people that Loki should be listening to.

So it was with a sigh that he turned to look back at Stark, his expression warming just a little. Especially since… well, the thing was, Stark’s opinion _did_ matter. For the second time in half as many hours, Loki was struck by the realisation that he had likely misread Stark’s intentions. Perhaps Stark had not been trying to manipulate Loki after all. Perhaps… there was a chance that when Stark had said that he wanted to help people, or to work toward making the world a better place, he _meant_ it. And perhaps, for some reason, he thought that Loki was the better prince for the job—

Which of course, as Stark had said, did not mean that Stark needed to agree with everything Loki said. If anything, that motive would require far more difference of opinion– for if everything was agreed upon, then how would any progress and improvement be made?

Loki sighed at the thought. It was a brave thing to do, he had to give Stark that. But perhaps that should not be so surprising– Stark was rather different from anyone else, wasn’t he? There were layers to him that, when peeled away, revealed something entirely new.

“Um, hey,” Stark said, his brow furrowing. “That’s… that’s not what I should have—”

“No,” Loki cut in– which, of course, was a little rude. But he thought that, between the two of them, it might have been his turn to break the protocols of polite conversation for once. “_My_ apologies. I did not mean to speak to you so harshly.”

“Yes, you did,” Stark replied, though at least his expression was a little softer now. “And I _am_ sorry. Had I realised—”

“No,” Loki said again, feeling a little grudging but still willing to admit the truth. “You are right that keeping the visiting warriors in the town for longer will be beneficial for our traders. It is an avenue that I had not considered. I was thinking on how the prince and his entourage will be a burden to the castle for _they_ must be housed and fed, but I did not consider the benefits to the townsfolk.”

Stark stared at that.

“Yes,” Loki said dryly, _this_ close to rolling his eyes. “I did just admit to a mistake. Please do not begin to expect it as a common occurrence.”

A bright grin exploded over Stark’s lips. “I am sure it won’t be,” he said. “You do seem to end up being right more often than anyone else. It’s a wonder you haven’t worn out the words _I told you so_ until they can no longer be said at all.”

“There is no reason to say I told you so when you can see the truth of the matter written all over everyone else’s faces,” Loki replied. Then he sighed. “I do, however, need to be getting to the library. In which direction are you headed?”

“Oh,” Stark said, a small flush staining his cheeks as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh. I wasn’t _just_ coming this way to talk to you. I was going to the library too.”

Loki held in his sigh. _Of course _he was. “Why are you going to the library?” he asked.

“That sounded a little judgemental,” Stark said. “Excuse you. I _read.”_

After pressing his lips together for a moment to hide his amusement, Loki shook his head. “You misunderstand. What is it that you will be reading?”

“I’m researching,” Stark said– and Loki was almost surprised when the other man’s tone lit up with a kind of excitement that Loki recognised as that which warmed _him_ whenever he began to speak on something he was passionate about. It was the kind of spark that Loki couldn’t resist prodding into a flame.

“Is it something in particular?”

Sure enough, Stark’s grin widened even further. “Yeah! I mean, you know that on the days when I am not the prestigious Lord Stark—”

“The _prestigious_ is debatable,” Loki interjected– and Stark let out a snort.

“Yeah, yeah, maybe when compared to a _prince_. But anyway, you know that I’m also a smith, and– well, not to brag but I _am_ fairly good at it.”

Loki might have felt the need to interject once more at that – he would have, had it been anyone else speaking – but he _had_ actually heard of Stark’s work. If Loki did not already have the ability to request the contracted castle smith to forge anything he needed, Loki might have sought his wares. So, he remained silent as the other man continued– and he even slowed his steps a little, so that they were waking more comfortably by each other’s sides.

“I want to try a new technique,” he said. “Something that used to be more common, but has fallen to the wayside in recent years.”

“That does sound intriguing,” Loki said agreeably. “And I wish you the best of luck.”

Stark smiled, and then Loki hoped that might be the end of it. Indeed, they did continue their walk in silence, and when they reached the library, they went their separate ways with amicable nods of their heads.

Loki collected the books that he wanted, and then he spread them out on his favourite large study table. He set himself up with a roll of parchment for taking notes, a quill, and his favourite dark green ink– and then he was just about to start when a loud _thunk_ had him glancing up to see Stark on the other side of the table, a large book resting before him.

“You know, you look like you’re in a good mood,” Stark said, his lips curling into a smile as he settled himself into a chair, his tone bright as if he were just going to entirely forget the previous tense mood. “You did before, actually, until you started trying to bite my head off—”

“_Excuse_ me—”

“Sorry, my liege. Until you began to remind me of my place, of which I will endeavour not to forget again. But, anyway, I _must_ admit that I am curious.” His smile turned a little sly. “Good night?”

“Good enough,” Loki muttered, feeling a little put out. He had hoped that he’d have a little peace and quiet, which would likely be impossible with Stark on the other side of the table. “What _are_ you doing—”

“I told you. I’m researching.”

Loki leaned forward to have a closer look at the title—

Stark actually tugged his book toward him a little, as if he did not want Loki to see it– but then after a couple seconds’ stare-off, Stark relented with a sigh. And, as the words continued to fall from Stark’s tongue, Loki found himself immediately intrigued.

“I’ve worked with plenty of metals before, but I have never attempted to work with _seiðr,”_ Stark explained. “Of course, I do not have any seiðr of my own, but I _have_ heard tale that there are ways to make a piece so that it will be more accepting of defensive spells, so that it may hold the magic better. But with so few mages in the kingdom, the practice has been mostly lost.”

“So you are researching seiðr?” Loki asked.

“Specifically in regard to enchanting armour and weapons, yes,” Stark agreed. “So I suppose it is lucky that I ran into you. Erm. Your highness. Since I know that you are also interested in seiðr.”

Loki nodded slowly. He tried not to let Stark’s words foster hope in him– as much as he had desired such armour in the past, he had long since given up on obtaining some. And Stark was right in saying that he did not possess any seiðr of his own.

“I am indeed,” he said. “And I would ordinarily be happy to help you. However, right now I _do_ have important work of my own to be getting on with.”

“Oh, of course,” Stark replied quickly. “I wasn’t expecting– I merely meant that, it’ll be nice. To sit by someone who would actually be interested in what I was doing. Even if we aren’t talking about it. Does that make sense?”

Loki gave a slight smile. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it all, to be honest. He was pleased that Stark was going to _try_ and work with seiðr, and that positive feeling certainly wasn’t something that escaped his notice. But… well. Stark was something complicated in his head. Something he didn’t really wish to think about.

Perhaps, if Stark had accepted his offer of tea the other night… perhaps it might have been a little different. But, no matter. Loki’s lips turned up as he remembered exactly why he was in the library, which naturally sent his mind back to the night before. His time with Stark paled in comparison to the thrill of when he had been with the Hood.

Loki was still smiling as he turned back to his own books– historical texts regarding the running of the kingdom, tomes so dusty that they likely had not been touched in years. And as he read through the terribly dreary pages and took down notes of interesting details, he hardly heard a peep out of Stark. When Loki looked up after several minutes, he was surprised to see the other man clearly concentrating hard, his tongue pressed between his teeth as his graphite pencil moved swiftly over the parchment before him, no evidence of the struggle the man would have if using a quill. He seemed to feel Loki’s gaze, and glanced up with a small smile before ducking his head back down to his work.

It was surprising. Loki hadn’t thought that Stark possessed the ability to cease talking.

But they continued to work in silence, and the quiet was calming enough that Loki’s mind turned back to warm memories, and to the excitement of knowing that he would be seeing his thief again.

It _did_ seem a long time to wait, but Loki was determined to use the time to his advantage.

—|x|—

Three days passed slower than Loki would have liked.

He spent most of it in the library, pouring through old records, putting together pieces that half made him feel like his frown was going to become fused to his face. Stark was not there after that first day – it seemed that he had managed to find what he was looking for – so Loki was left to work by himself for the remaining two. It was almost calming, in a way, to have a goal to work toward which he _knew_ would help to make the kingdom a better place. It fuelled him through the long days, through waiting for the moment when he would be able to see his thief once more—

But when the time came, Loki couldn’t help the nerves that threatened to claw their way up his throat.

He didn’t know _why_ he felt this way– it was not as if there was anything to be worried about. The Hood was the one who had invited him to meet again, and Loki was rather sure – at least, as sure as he could be, given that the Hood _was_ a criminal – that his thief was not trying to lure him into a trap.

For while Loki might have had unusual difficulty discerning Stark’s motives, he believed that the Hood’s were now rather clear. He evidently knew that Loki was placed in a position to help him, and likely wouldn’t put that in jeopardy—

Which was _why_ Loki had worked hard to get his research as completed as possible before the third day. It was hard work, because there were so many records to sift through, but he did the best that he could.

How is it that time can move slowly and quickly all at once? The whole while Loki felt like there was something looming over him, a pressure in his chest, a bundle of nerves that wouldn’t vanish. Yet, whenever he thought on the way that the Hood had pressed a kiss to Loki’s cheek, his skin and the Hood’s lips separated only by a thin piece of fabric… his heart skipped a beat, and the time between then and when he would be able to see the Hood again felt like a thousand years.

And when that third night _finally_ came, Loki felt rather like he was so twisted up he didn’t know _what_ he was feeling at all.

He made sure that Thor and the others all believed him tired and in need of rest, so that he could buy himself the time that he needed. He told them all at dinner that he would be returning to his rooms and that he was not to be disturbed, not even for an emergency meeting– he could not risk them realising that he was not there. He could feel eyes on his back as they all dispersed to their quarters at the end of the meal, but he did not care to check who’s they were– and on his way back to his room, he felt like he wanted to slow his feet, and yet he made it to his door in record time.

Loki hesitated, for a moment, before he decided upon what he was going to wear– but after only that moment he simply cast the same illusion over his clothes as he had that first night he had spent with the Hood. Then he melted into the shadows to make his way through the castle, evading the guards and making it out to the gatehouse with hardly any trouble. It truly was _awfully_ easy– he knew that he had the benefit of seiðr on his side, but the castle’s security measures were actually rather embarrassing. Perhaps he should make a note to improve them.

Well, once _he_ was done with sneaking about, at any rate.

When Loki reached the gatehouse, it was to find that there was nobody there. Which, might have increased his nerves, given that the Hood was nowhere in sight– but there truly was _no-one_, not even a guard.

Loki took a few steps further, a sense of foreboding curling through him– but not in a way that was worrying, not the kind of feeling that prickled at the back of the neck and usually meant that there was an incoming ambush. Oh no, what Loki felt was a spark of fire in his chest, a bright, bright flare of adrenaline that surged gleefully with the forthcoming excitement.

And as Loki noticed a rolled piece of parchment lodged precariously between the latticed bars of the portcullis– he felt like he was about to take a dive of a cliff.

He took it between fingers that were not entirely steady, and his breath left him in a gush of air as he read the simple message.

[_Look up._]

Loki stepped out of the gatehouse and did as he was bid– and his grin widened _further_ when he saw a scarf-covered face looking down at him. The moment their gazes met, the Hood ducked back behind the battlements– and then a rope came tumbling over the edge.

There wasn’t room for any hesitation. Despite the nerves leading up to this moment, Loki took the rope in hand, and with the assistance of his seiðr he was up and on the battlements in hardly any time at all—

And the Hood was _right there._ He took Loki’s arm and helped him up down onto the wall, his eyes glittering with the same kind of excitement that Loki was feeling himself.

“My prince,” the Hood said once they were settled, his voice enough to make Loki’s stomach do a strange and unfamiliar kind of twist. “You came.”

“How could I not?” Loki asked. Then he winced, glad that his scarf mostly hid his expression. He hadn’t meant to be so open– he would blame it on the surprise of the direction that the evening had already turned. Then he cleared his throat. “What is it that you wanted to do today?” he asked. “Do we have more houses to visit?”

“So eager,” the Hood chuckled– and as his fingers tightened, Loki realised with a jolt that the Hood was still gripping his forearm. But then the Hood shook his head. “No. I already did my rounds with the silver earlier. And I _had_ planned on us causing a little more trouble together, but I think I’ve already gained enough attention tonight. You may, uh. Receive a few interesting reports from the guards that were on duty.”

Loki raised his brows, but he couldn’t help the smile. That was almost turning into something of a pattern. “What _did_ you do to them?”

“Let’s just say that they’re on a bit of a wild goose chase,” the Hood laughed. “Tell you what, I will say one thing for your ever-increasing bounty. It certainly does make your guards desperate and easy to trick.”

Loki snorted. “I’m sure Thor will be glad to hear that,” he replied. “But then, if you have no houses to visit and you don’t want my assistance in stealing something—”

“Would you be _willing_ to help me steal something?” The Hood asked, his voice low and dripping with excitement. And it was with yet another thrum of excitement that Loki wondered exactly what it was he’d just managed to walk into.

But, well. He could hardly say yes that easily, could he? He _was_ still a prince, no matter how much he had come to agree with the Hood’s motives.

“I admit that I had half expected that to be why you wanted to meet with me again,” Loki said neatly, doing his best to avoid the question.

“No,” the Hood said lightly. “I have something else in mind.”

“And that is?”

“A gift.”

Loki frowned in confusion– and then his eyes widened as the Hood slid his hand down Loki’s arm and entwined their fingers instead.

“A gift for _you_, if you would accept it.”

Loki jerked his head in something he hoped resembled a nod, feeling confused and hopeful and a whole other barrage of things that somehow still made far too much sense.

The Hood reached into the pouch on his belt, which Loki only just now noticed was far larger than the ones that the Hood had used before to distribute coins– and he pulled out an item that had Loki sucking in a breath.

“I told you that you could do a lot better than something from the castle smith,” the Hood said– and despite the cheeky tone, Loki felt that he could sense a bit of nervousness underneath. That, somehow, managed to put Loki a little more at ease. “And I _know_, it’s hardly my usual style, giving something to the _rich._ But, I– I got these for you, and I wanted you to have them.”

They were a pair of vambraces, the same colour and shape as the ones Loki had worn for years– but the design was entirely different. Where those he had procured from the castle smith were smooth and gleaming, these were etched with intricate patterns, the lines woven with runes in a way that made the runes themselves difficult to notice lest one examined the vambraces closely.

“They’re beautiful,” Loki breathed. Then he looked up, and met the Hood’s gaze. “How did you…?”

“I had them made,” Hood said. “I, uh. I don’t know how to imbue them with magic, but I think that you might be able to?”

Loki’s free hand was almost shaking as he reached out to take them, and the was metal cool against his skin from the night air. “I know a smith who was planning on learning how to do this,” he said, his voice almost absent.

The Hood shrugged. “Maybe it’s the same smith.”

Loki paused, his eyes still on the metal. And, standing there with the Hood’s hand still warm in his, Loki… wondered.

He– he thought about the things he had noticed, about everything might have overlooked. He thought about splotches of ink over parchment and about a desire to help people. He thought about errands and bounties, about graphite and lists and the sudden determination to learn how to imbue metal with magic—

And when he’d thought through so many pieces that were useless alone but which pieced together a rather colourful picture…

He looked up to meet the Hood’s brown eyes, and he _wondered._

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Loki said, feeling a little breathless, his heart pounding hard enough that it was rushing in his ears. “This is… _why_ would you—”

“Because…” the Hood drew in a breath. “Because you’re a good person, you know? Because you do so much for this kingdom and no one else even _sees_ it. But I do, and I want you to know that someone, at least, appreciates it.”

“I’ve done nothing, not yet. I haven’t made _anything_ better—”

“I know what you’ve been researching,” the Hood cut in. “I know that, after only one night of seeing why I do what I do, you _already_ want things to change. Loki, you… you’re incredible, and you’re _good._ And I…”

The Hood trailed off, his hand reaching up to cup Loki’s cheek. Then, gently and ever so slowly, he tucked his fingers under the edge of Loki’s scarf and tugged it down.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s words were but a whisper, and– anything further caught in his throat as the Hood touched his hand to his own mouth for the briefest of moments, as if testing how the scarf felt on his skin.

“It wasn’t just the way you want to help the people of this kingdom that made me want to give you those,” the Hood whispered. His free hand stroked over Loki’s cheek, his thumb gently brushing Loki’s lips. “My prince… _Loki._ Would you… close your eyes?”

“How do you know I won’t open them?” Loki asked, though his eyes were half closed already.

“I don’t,” the Hood replied, voice as soft as anything. “I suppose I must trust you.”

Loki felt something warm blossom through him at that– and he didn’t argue any further. He didn’t think that he _could_. He simply did as he was asked and allowed his eyes to fall closed, feeling something of a shudder as he Hood’s breath ghosted over his cheek—

And then, in a touch as warm as the setting sun, his thief’s lips were pressing against his.

The first moment was like a gust of fresh air, cool and fleeting. He noticed that the Hood had facial hair– not a long beard, but enough of it that Loki could feel it against his skin. Somehow, that was something that Loki had _expected_– but then that first moment gave way to gentle heat and tender passion, and as Loki pulled the other man closer, all he could think about was the feel of the Hood’s arm curled around his waist, the fingers of his thief’s other hand threading through Loki’s hair.

And as their kiss deepened, any remaining thought of who Hood might be melted from his mind– because even though he had his suspicions they didn’t _matter_, not any more. The man Loki held in his arms didn’t need a name when he kissed like this, when he held Loki as if he were the only person in the world– when he pulled back with a sigh to press their foreheads together in a lingering embrace that Loki _could_ tear to pieces just by opening his eyes—

But… Loki didn’t.

Because in that moment, on those battlements, under the stars and in the light of the rising moon, the differences and politics between them paled against the truth.

Loki was in the process of falling for his thief, and if it meant he could keep this? Then everything else could just scatter on the wind.


	7. Offence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to **Rabentochter**, for helping me a heap with this (especially assuring me Tony's assholery is at the right level), and also to **JaxonKreide** who all but whacked me over the head when I was trying to pick a chapter title.  
  
**Square I3**— _Dialogue: “If only…”_

Loki had always been told that secrets caused rot. That they would eat away at all the things that were good and bright in the world, that they would gnaw against a good mood until there was nothing but bitterness left. He had been told that even on the occasion that keeping a secret felt like fun, it would always be revealed in the worst possible way, and would only ever result in pain.

As a child, he had disagreed with that notion. He’d believed that there were moments for keeping secrets, moments when doing so was the best course of action. Such as when his brother confided something personal, and asked Loki not to tell anyone else. At times like that, was keeping a secret not the kinder thing to do?

Of course, as an adult he did agree that secrets often ended in explosive results, that they were near impossible to keep indefinitely. He generally tried to avoid them where they were not entirely necessary, but in this instance… well.

This secret warmed him all the way through.

Just thinking of the Hood, just remembering the sensations of lips pressing against his own was enough to cause his heart to stutter, to have him wearing a gentle smile.

They had kissed for a good while atop the wall that first time, holding each other close, unwilling to let go. Loki’s eyes had remained closed all the while, keeping his promise and not wanting the moment to end—

Not wanting to break the trust that the other man had put in him.

And when they had parted, they had both been wearing smiles as soft as anything.

The Hood hadn’t said much, after that– just a whisper of a good morning, their fingers lingering together for a while before they were forced to pull apart. Neither wanted to let go– but they knew that they must, for with the rising of the sun came a return to the duties of the day.

It was only during the night that they could be together.

Over the following weeks, nothing changed. They met when they could, every night they could spare without exhausting themselves.

Sometimes, Loki helped the Hood distribute needed food and coin– sometimes, they simply spent time together sitting upon the parapets, leaning into each other’s space, their hands entwined and their voices low.

And Loki… just couldn’t stop smiling.

He knew that Thor noticed a change, he caught the odd looks every now and then. But Loki couldn’t bring himself to care. After all that he had been put through, all that he was _still dealing with_ during all the fuss in the castle, surely he deserved a little happiness for himself?

Because of course, the castle truly _was_ still in a state of turmoil. Everyone else remained in fear of the Hood, clutching their belongings close to their chest, watching over their shoulders for a movement in the shadows.

Loki alone knew the reality of the Hood’s motivations– and unlike when he had first hoped to discover them, he had no plans of disclosing the truth.

Perhaps there were moments when he wished that he could let the truth flow free, when he yearned to have his love by his side the same way that the married lords and ladies sat together. When he wished that he could turn and share a smile during a meal, or have someone to smirk with during a meeting.

But… he knew that it was impossible. So long as the one he wanted at his side was an outlaw, there could be no shared smiles, no holding hands under the table.

Although, sometimes, Loki would feel eyes on him as he walked a corridor, conducted his duties, worked through a council meeting. He’d always look up to try and find a familiar brown gaze, but more often than not he’d see nothing.

Meanwhile, Stark had been somewhat… absent, over the past several days, as if he did not wish to be seen in Loki’s presence. Loki didn’t mind too much– he didn’t go looking for Stark either, even when he felt that loneliness biting at him more surely than anything else ever had. It just seemed like it might be… _safer._

They kept their distance, as was probably best. Because if Loki’s suspicions were correct, he did not wish to give anything away– and if they were _not_, then… well.

He did not wish to become confused.

Besides, Loki told himself– he didn’t _need_ a friend in court, not anymore. Not when most nights were full of the only companionship he could _ever_ need, when he spent every moment during the day yearning to be back outside in the arms of the one to whom he had gifted his heart.

He tried not to examine it too closely, this _need_ that had grown inside him. It wasn’t that he felt incomplete or, only one half of a whole, as he remembered some of the stories his mother used to tell him reporting. No, he just… he just felt _lighter_ when he was with his thief, like a weight that he hadn’t even noticed he otherwise carried was lifted from his shoulders. He could be himself with the Hood in a way that he never could be with anyone else, both in his openness with his magic and just his own demeanour. No one had ever accepted every part of him so easily, and Loki loved every single moment of it.

And surely, something which made him feel like that… didn’t need to be overly complicated?

But, unfortunately, it _was_ complicated, and it would always remain so. Every moment with the Hood was a step away from who Loki had always been, and what he had always stood for– though every step felt as natural as a breath of air.

Besides, aiding the Hood in feeding the poor was the _right_ thing to do, surely? Just an extension of Loki’s duties as a prince, since taking care of his people should always be at the forefront of his responsibilities.

It was that which Loki repeated to himself in any moment of doubt, not that those moments were common—

And it was only on the night that Loki first helped the Hood to _steal_ that he first realised just exactly how _deeply_ he had fallen.

They had made their plans the night before, curled together on the roof above Loki’s rooms, Loki’s head on the Hood’s shoulder and the Hood’s fingers stroking through Loki’s hair. They’d whispered words of sabotage and treason into each other’s ears amongst gentle smiles and tender caresses, and Loki had never even thought twice.

The Hood was right– it was an opportunity that could not be missed, a moment that would help them make a leap and bound toward the better Asgard that Loki’s thief had hopes for.

For the night that the entire kingdom had been waiting and preparing for was finally upon them– the feast to celebrate the opening of the long awaited and slightly delayed tourney.

It was the perfect opportunity for the Hood to make a scene– but he had needed Loki’s help. For this could not be just a simple heist.

No—

The Hood said that this was a moment to make a _statement._

The mountains of food upon the tables turned Loki’s stomach as he entered the hall, as he couldn’t help but wonder how many mouths on the street those mountains might feed.

But he kept his expression first carefully blank and then carefully courteous, playing his part just as well as he always had.

Ignorance may have been bliss in the past, but he was glad that his eyes had been opened– because it meant that he had the chance to _do_ something about it.

So he greeted those who were important, he _smiled._ He made sure that mead and ale of increased strength made its way into the right cups, and he used his magic to keep those cups ever-filled. It was all he needed to do– the only advantage that his thief would need. And Loki did it… without ever questioning.

Sitting at his table was a little harder, listening to the conversations of the privileged into which he had once enjoyed inserting himself. But while Thor became more and more jovial with every cup of mead, Loki felt like he was drowning—

And when he heard Freyr and Thor joking together about the amount of money they would bet on the different events come the following morn, Loki stood from the table with a suddenness that silenced those around him.

“Are you well, Prince Loki?” Freyr asked, his frown beyond concerned.

“Fine,” Loki said, offering half a smile. “I might just…” He didn’t bother to finish the sentence, just– moved away from the table and toward the throng of people surrounding the dance floor. He thought there may have been a chance to get lost in the crowd, and then perhaps he could leave– perhaps he could even find the Hood. He had to be near, he was planning on making a robbery after all—

“Prince Loki?”

Loki turned at the familiar voice, though he made sure to hide his surprise. “You’ve finally learned how to properly address royalty then?” he asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Stark’s smile was small, almost more of a smirk, and Loki couldn’t help the way his eyes darted to it. Despite promising himself that he wouldn’t, he was still searching for familiarity. But then, Stark’s next words had Loki’s gaze snapping back up. “I just know the right way to ask someone to dance.”

Loki’s brows rose. “Evidently, that is not the case,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Prince Loki,” Stark said again, his voice just a little lower this time– and holding out his hand with a slightly bowed head. “Would you give me the honour of this dance?”

Loki sighed. “Just the _one.”_

This time, as Stark’s smile widened, Loki kept his expression firm.

“I mean it. I have somewhere else to be.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Stark said, leading the way to where couples were already twirling together across the floor. “You’re the one who’s going to preside over the tourney, are you not? In a way, this is your party.”

“It’s Freyr’s party,” Loki muttered. “This is all for him and the rest of the elves, you _know_ that.”

“I know that Freyr and Odin finally came to an agreement,” Stark said. “Just in time too, apparently.” When Loki frowned in question, Stark shrugged. “Thor was complaining about it earlier. I believe that’s why Freyr has ensured Thor’s remained plied with drink all evening. Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice the way his cup kept refilling by itself?”

Loki frowned. Stark should have– well, if Stark didn’t know that it was _Loki_ behind that little trick, then Loki wasn’t about to tell him, was he?

It was true though, that Freyr and Thor appeared far friendlier tonight than they had previously– well, Thor did, anyway. Freyr had never seemed to actively have a _problem_ with Thor in the past, he’d just… ignored him, mostly.

He certainly didn’t anymore regardless, for Loki could hear their combined laughter from the other side of the room.

Loki and Stark gained a little bit of attention as they stepped onto the dancefloor, but only because it was a rare thing for Loki to do. The stares stopped almost as soon as the next dance began, though Loki still felt a little tense as their hands met.

But Stark smiled again, and… then it didn’t really matter.

Stark was surprisingly graceful, for a man who had not spent as much time as most nobles at parties such as this. He kept in step with ease, he and Loki twirling fluidly and far smoother than any other couple on the floor. It barely required concentration, and Loki found his mind starting to wander.

And, apparently, he was not the only one.

“Those are some impressive vambraces,” Stark said, his eyes on one of Loki’s wrists.

“Was it you who made them?” Loki asked, his eyes narrowing. Despite the hits against his suspicions, _this_ was something he could allow himself to ask.

“I might have.” Stark’s brown eyes gleamed. “They do look like they would have taken great skill.”

And at that, Loki had to hold in a sigh. Honestly, had he really expected anything else? He already knew Stark was a fine smith, and he’d seen the man researching how to create armour that could be imbued with magic. He _also_ knew that he had something of an ego. Not one ounce of any of this came as a surprise– and Stark had not even truly answered his question.

Although… Loki supposed that the deflection was enough of an answer in itself. Especially when—

“You deserve the best,” Stark murmured. “Anyone asking me to create a gift for you… I wouldn’t ever refuse.”

“Why not?” Loki asked.

Stark swallowed, and glanced away. “Loki, listen,” he said. “There’s… something that I wanted to talk to you about. Something that I don’t think you know. I thought that you were just, ignoring it, but—”

“If I am ignoring it, then there is no need to speak of it,” Loki interrupted quickly, lowering his voice to a hiss, his previous good temper vanishing as quickly as his patience. “And to do so in a hall full of people—”

“You’ve been avoiding me. I didn’t know when else I’d be able to talk to you, since you’re hardly in the library during the night anymore—”

“Are _you?”_ Loki cut in.

“Well, no, because _you’re—”_ Stark cut himself off, and shook his head. “Look. I don’t think we’re on the same page here. Will you just let me talk?”

Loki paused, for a moment. It was clear that pushing would just result in Stark becoming stubborn and closing off– perhaps the smartest thing _would_ be to just let him talk.

But before Loki could give a nod, Stark’s gaze caught on something over Loki’s shoulder, and he froze. Loki frowned once more, but before he could ask or look there was a clearing of a throat—

And, then.

“Prince Loki?”

Loki grit his teeth so hard they must have been at risk of cracking– but by the time he turned, his well-practiced grin was already in place.

“Prince Freyr,” Loki said, his voice just as bright as it was false. “Enjoying the party, I hope?”

“Well, yes, I am,” Freyr said, his own smile showing his pearly white teeth. “I would enjoy it far more, however, if you would allow me this dance. Shall we?” He held out his arm, and Loki knew that he could not refuse. Yet, he could not help but glance at Stark—

Who looked entirely stricken. “I’m sorry,” he said– and then, he turned on his heel, and pushed back through the crowd.

“What an odd fellow,” Freyr said.

“…Yes.” Loki frowned as he stared after his friend– if he could even call Stark that. He had hoped the conversation would give him answers, but it seemed to have only left him with more questions. “Yes, I suppose so.”

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle tug on his arm, and then Loki turned and grudgingly joined Freyr for the dance. He should have just said no to Stark in the first place, and escaped the hall while he had the chance.

“I apologise that we have not had much time to talk,” Freyr started, sounding entirely too cheerful for Loki’s current tastes. “I had hoped that we could get to know each other better, so that you would have a friend in the palace once you moved to Alfheim.”

Loki hummed at first, the words not really sinking in, his mind preoccupied with counting the minutes until he could go and find the man he _actually_ wanted to be spending time with. But as Freyr continued talking—

“Of course, the wedding will be a far grander party than this. My father the king will make sure that no expense is spared, and if I may say so, Alfheim is in a much better position than Asgard at the moment, financially speaking—”

“Wait,” Loki said, stopping mid step and staring at Freyr in burgeoning horror. “Would you repeat that please?”

“The wedding,” Freyr said, frowning in confusion. “You have no need to worry, it will certainly be spectacular, just as you deserve—”

“What _wedding?”_ Loki hissed.

And Freyr’s frown deepened. “Well, yours, of course. Yours and my sister’s. An agreement was finally reached this morning, the betrothal is set. Surely your father spoke to you of this?”

Loki shook his head. “No,” he said, “No, you must be mistaken. I am not betrothed, I cannot be—”

“Arranging this marriage was my entire purpose for coming here—”

“I am not going to marry, I _will not—” _

“Prince Loki,” Freyr snapped, his voice loud enough to carry through the entire room. “This is not a matter that remains up for debate. Your father, brother and I have spent weeks discussing the terms, it was the cause for the delay of the tourney, for the games are to be a celebration of the betrothal—”

“I can’t listen to this,” Loki said, backing away, his hands clenched into fists and shaking with rage. “I _won’t_ listen to this—”

“Prince Loki!”

Loki paid no attention to Freyr’s shout, or that of any of the bystanders as he forced his way through the crowd and hurried out of the hall.

He could hear footsteps behind him but he refused to slow, just needing to be _away—_

But a hand on his arm pulled him back, and Loki turned to face his concerned older brother with a snarl.

“Why was I not informed of this?” Loki demanded, stepping right up into Thor’s space– because if he was going to be forced to talk about it, then he sure as Hel wasn’t going to go gently. “Why did you and father organise this without so much as _asking_ me?”

“You were invited to the discussions,” Thor said. “But you refused to attend—”

“Had I realised what they entailed, I would not have missed them—”

“Well, it is too late now. Chin up, brother– you’re to be the husband of the princess of Alfheim. They practice magic there, you’ll be happy—”

“Happy,” Loki echoed, his laugh low and bitter. “Is that what I’ll be?”

“Father originally wished it to be me, but Freyr insisted upon you due to your mastery of seiðr—”

“Then perhaps Freyr would enjoy a _personal_ demonstration of exactly what I am capable of—”

“Loki, you can’t do this—”

“_No,_ Thor,” Loki snapped. “This is– you _cannot_ make me do this, I will not do this! I refuse to be sold like a brood mare, especially not when I have only just—”

This time, Loki cut himself off, his words cracking into half a strangled sob.

“I am sorry, brother,” Thor whispered– and when his hand came to rest on Loki’s shoulder, Loki resisted the urge to shrug it off. “As I said, father wished for it to be me, for Princess Freyja to become my future queen. But Freyr was insistent that her husband must be a seiðrmann, and that meant that it had to be you. You and your wife will return here to live after the wedding, Freyr swore it. Loki, for the good of Asgard, you _must_ do this. With all the chaos that the Hood has brought down upon us, you and this alliance with Alfheim remain our only hope.”

“That’s not true,” Loki groaned. “That cannot be true. Please, do not ask this of me, do not ask me to choose between my kingdom and—” He stopped with a snarl, turning away.

“And what, brother? Why is this paining you so, when we have both known our whole lives that our fate is to have our partner chosen for us? And you know, you could do much worse than Freyja of Alfheim.”

Loki felt like he was going to be ill. Because yes, he _did_ know that– ever since their mother had sat them down and told them of their likely future, both Thor and Loki had been worried about who they may end up with, but had always been prepared to do their duty nonetheless. And far from the monstrous fears Loki’d had over the years, he knew Freyja to be as beautiful as she was kind, lauded throughout the Nine for her golden hair and fair temperament. And the fact that a marriage to her would indeed help save Asgard was no small consideration—

But Loki could not marry her.

Not when his heart already belonged to another.

That was not, however, something he could admit to Thor, and he was left trying to hold in an outburst of rage, shaking in the middle of the corridor while his brother looked on in confusion.

It just wasn’t _fair,_ that in the very moment Loki managed to find his own happiness it was about to be torn away from him.

Well. He supposed… he just wasn’t ever meant to have a moment of calm, a moment of peace, a moment of _joy_ for himself.

His whole life was to be dedicated to carrying the whole of Asgard on his shoulders, just as it always had been. He was a fool to have ever believed anything different—

No.

_No._

Loki refused to let that be true. He _wasn’t_ a fool, and he wouldn’t simply roll over and let the Three Spinners do with him as they wished. He was his own master, and he—

He would fight back against this.

If there’s one thing Loki knew to be true, it was that one is only powerless if they believe themselves to be– and Loki was going to fight his way out of this tooth and nail.

He needed to find the Hood. If he joined his thief as an outlaw then so be it, perhaps they could follow Thor’s insane idea and go and live together in the woods, away from the finery of life in the castle but together and _free_ from the constraints of that Norns-awful place.

He needed to get _away._

Thankfully, just as Loki was about to simply turn and walk away and hope that Thor would not follow, there was something of a commotion back down the other end of the hall. Both Loki and Thor turned to look as Sif, Fandral, and _Stark_ of all people hurried toward them, all of them wearing concerned and _angry_ expressions.

“Thor!” Sif exclaimed, “Lord Tyr just noticed that his jewelled brooch was missing, and when he shouted out to try and find the thief—”

“Almost all of us have been robbed,” Fandral cut in. “My coin purse is missing—”

“And my bracelet,” Sif muttered, showing her bare wrist.

“And I’ve lost a decorative knife,” Stark added, gesturing to an empty scabbard on his hip. “I was hoping to sell that eventually, it was worth quite a bit—”

“We’ve _all_ been robbed,” Fandral said again. “Thor, don’t you see, the thief is in the hall—”

“Well, likely not anymore,” Stark interrupted. “Surely he would have run the moment he heard Tyr start to squawk—”

“It’s still worth checking,” Sif insisted.

“Of course it is,” Thor agreed. Then he paused. “Loki, are you—”

“I am fine,” Loki muttered. “Go.”

Thor eyed him for another few seconds, but he couldn’t ignore Sif’s insistence for long, and followed after his friends. Stark, similarly, allowed Loki a glance that was near painfully sympathetic—

But Loki just turned in the opposite direction, just barely holding back from a run as he hurried toward his rooms.

He managed to keep a hold of himself until his door was closed behind him, only _then_ allowing his pain to escape him in a piercing cry. But he forced himself to hold together on the power of his spite alone, refusing to allow this to beat him. He drew in a few slow, deep breaths, and then pushed away from the door and stalked across the room.

There was a pile of various valuable items on his couch, but Loki paid it no notice, moving instead straight for his desk, for his parchment and quill. He’d leave a letter for Thor, and for Odin. Perhaps they would understand– more likely they wouldn’t, but Loki felt he needed to at least leave _some_ kind of explanation.

Still, he hesitated over the words. What was there to say?

He knew this was rather rash, but he felt like he was on fire, both the pain and the passion burning so that he knew he couldn’t just sit still. He had to get away.

His quill felt heavier in his hand than it had in a very long time, and the tip hovered over the parchment long enough to form a blotch. Loki stared at it, for a moment, watching the ink absorb into the parchment, imagining how his thief might do the same thing whenever he blotched his writing.

Loki sighed, and picked up a new sheet.

He could be poetic, he could beat around the bush– or he could simply come out and say it, simply state his reasoning plain and clear, so that there could be no misunderstanding.

That was probably better.

Loki halted on the very first line, the first word written but the second giving him pause. But only for a moment, realising that really, the letter needed only the _one _recipient. 

_[Dear Thor, / _ _Firstly, I would like to apologise for not saying goodbye in person. I know that you are likely angry with me for leaving this way, but I beg you, please allow me to explain… ]_

Loki took his time in writing, choosing each word with care. This letter, after all, would have impact. He addressed it only to his brother, however, for Thor could always inform Odin and Odin would likely not care regardless, save for the fact that Loki would be leaving Asgard scrambling to repair their alliance with Alfheim.

“Loki.”

Loki’s head snapped up, his quill skating across the parchment in his surprise. “You’re here,” he exclaimed, feeling like the tension in his shoulders just melted away as he saw his thief standing by the couch, a bag in his hands– likely full of that pile of items, the stuff he had managed to steal from the party.

But then… Loki took note of the stiff way the Hood was standing, the way his eyes glanced to the balcony every now and then, and Loki couldn’t help but worry that something was wrong.

Something beyond what Loki already knew to be true, anyway.

Placing his quill down, Loki stood from his desk and took a few cautious steps closer to his thief.

“You would have heard what happened at the feast?” Loki asked.

The Hood nodded slightly. “The elf was hardly quiet.”

“Then you know… that I am betrothed to be married? To Princess Freyja of Alfheim?”

The Hood nodded again. “I thought you knew that already.”

And Loki’s breath caught in his throat. “_You_ knew?”

“I thought it was obvious,” the Hood said– and his terse tone did not escape Loki’s notice. “Why else would Prince Freyr be here? Why else would he have arrived so very early, long before the tourney was due to start?”

Loki clenched his fists. “Why are you doing this? Why are you– look, I have a plan.” Loki turned back to his desk, picked up the parchment to show to the Hood. “I’m writing a letter to my brother, to let him know that I will be leaving the castle. I’ll stay with you, or we can stay together, somewhere they can’t find us. We can work together to make Asgard better. What do you say?”

“You…” under the hood, Loki saw his thief’s eyes widen – and then they widened further still as his gaze danced over the words Loki had written on the parchment – but then the Hood tore his gaze away. “_No._ We can’t, it won’t work.”

“Why not?” Loki demanded. “If we need information, I can use my seiðr to get us inside the castle. Together, I know we would make a good team—”

“I said _no,”_ the Hood hissed. “Loki, both of us being out there will never work as well as what we have now. And…” he hesitated, for a moment, but when he spoke again his voice was strong. “And this might actually be for the better. You marrying that princess will bring more wealth into the kingdom, and that can only be a good thing—”

“No,” Loki snapped, lifting up a hand. “No, don’t you _dare_ make this about the people—”

“It’s to be about you, then?” the Hood retorted– and the sudden _poison_ in his tone had Loki flinching back. “Just like it was in the beginning? And I thought that we had leached that royal arrogance out of you—”

“Why are you being like this?” Loki demanded. “Just last night we were—”

“Living a _lie,_ yes,” the Hood cut in. “Don’t you see, I thought you _knew_. I thought we were just having a bit of fun—”

“You’re lying—”

“Am I? Loki, you’ve written on that letter that you– but don’t you see, it can _never_ be that way between us. You need to marry the princess, it’s the best course of action for everyone involved—”

“But I _love_ you,” Loki gasped.

“Oh, Loki, I know,” the Hood sighed, his eyes turning hard. “If only _I_ loved _you_.”

Loki felt the words like a lance through his heart, but once again, even _now,_ he refused to be _beaten—_

“You don’t mean that,” Loki insisted, despite the pain, despite the growing numbness. “You– you care about me, I know it—”

“No,” the Hood said, tilting his head in a manner that looked awfully like _pity._ “I wanted you to make a change, and I thought an emotional connection might help you change your mind about the situation faster. People like you… don’t ever do things for anyone other than yourself.”

“That’s not fair—”

“I should have known that I couldn’t keep the charade up any longer,” the Hood said sharply. “I tried, for the people’s sake. I wanted to keep this going as long as I could. But I thought you knew about the engagement– and if you have _actual_ feelings… well, even to someone like you, I am not that cruel.”

Loki felt his heart shatter to pieces– and in that moment, he would have done almost anything for the Hood’s words to not be true—

But before he had finished drawing in his gasping breath, the Hood was already gone, stalking to the balcony and vanishing into the shadows.

And as Loki wrapped his arms around his waist in a fruitless attempt to hold himself together, the unfinished letter fluttered to the ground, the sight of its damning words only serving to tear what little remained of Loki to tiny, broken pieces.

[_Dear Thor, / _

_Firstly, I would like to apologise for not saying goodbye in person. I know that you are likely angry with me for leaving this way, but I beg you, please allow me to explain my reasons before you destroy this letter. /_

_I cannot marry Princess Freyja. I know that it is my duty, but my heart belongs to another. Brother, I understand that this will be difficult to accept, and I am sorry for any pain this may cause you; but I have been in contact with the Hood, and I do believe that I love him. /_

_Please, know that this is not easy for me to do. I never wished to be forced to choose—_]


	8. Arrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to **Rabentochter** for giving this a look over for me ❤︎

That night, Loki felt like he was breaking.

Not a single part of him remained undamaged, no piece left untouched. As his chest cracked to damaged fragments and his mind whirred to try and find a logical _reason,_ it was as if he were being entirely unmade.

Unmade, but– _hardening_ into something else.

His pillow was stained with fallen tears, his throat raw from sobs– but when he rose the following morning, he ensured that not one person would see the state that the Hood had left him in.

He _refused_ to let that man break him anymore than he already had. Because Loki needed to stay strong, for the good of Asgard. He’d lost sight these past few weeks of what truly _mattered,_ but thankfully, it wasn’t too late.

This was the day of the tourney, and Asgard… Asgard _needed_ to put forth its best foot, because while it might be just as on the verge of falling apart as Loki was himself, they couldn’t afford to allow the elves to see any sign of weakness.

With Odin hiding himself away and Thor competing, Asgard’s reputation lay in Loki’s hands—

And he would not allow it to fall.

The kingdom was his home, his _duty._ Protecting it was what he had been raised to do, and while there were many in the kingdom who did not appreciate his efforts he would not abandon those who needed him.

So, when he left his rooms, he was dressed in his finest and wearing his best smile. He greeted those he passed in the hallway, and conducted polite conversation on his way to breakfast. He cheered along with the others when Thor entered the hall in his armour–though not as boisterously as Thor usually did before a tourney, Loki noticed. And he nodded to Freyr across the table as he settled in his seat, causing the other prince’s expression to gain a touch of relief.

“Good morning, Prince Loki,” Freyr greeted, his voice a little rougher than usual, his eyes a little red.

“Good morning to you,” Loki replied– though he frowned slightly. “Are you quite all right?”

“Ah, yes, nothing a little more mead can’t fix,” Freyr said, already reaching for a tankard. “It’s odd. Asgardian mead does not normally affect me as strongly as elvish wine, and yet…”

“Last night was a rather good party,” Loki interjected. Once, he might have felt smug that the effects of his mischief-making were still being felt, but in that moment the reminder was only unwelcome. At least, if his control slipped a little or he had missed any evidence of his own rough night upon his face, it might just as well be dismissed as being the same as everyone else’s headaches.

“It was.” Freyr seemed to consider something, twisting the tankard in his hand so that the mead swirled inside. “Prince Loki… I would like to apologise for shocking you last night, the way that I did. I believed you were already aware of the engagement.”

“I understand,” Loki sighed. “It was of my own making. I knew that an alliance was being discussed, but I was too busy with my other duties.”

Indeed, his research in the library had seemed more important at the time. But why should Thor and Odin be interested in economics when a far simpler solution had walked through their doors?

“And I assure you, of course,” Loki added, knowing that it was only proper to do so. “I consider it an honour to be gifted your sister’s hand.”

Freyr’s smile turned pleased, and Loki tried to convince himself that the twinge it sent through his chest was one of relief.

After all, the Hood really had spoken nothing but the truth. Marrying Princess Freyja would give Asgard the support they sorely needed to pull themselves out of the rut that—

Well, the rut that the _Hood_ had sent them tumbling into in the first place.

Loki turned back to his food. It tasted bland and rough in his mouth, and it didn’t do much to settle his stomach– but it was a distraction from the thoughts that were attempting to tarnish his control.

Anyway, Loki told himself, the Hood hadn’t been the crux of the problem– merely a symptom of it. For all that the Hood had manipulated Loki, he didn’t believe that the Hood’s motives regarding the people had been a lie– the thief wished to help them out of _their_ poverty, though he had done it in such a way that the rest of the kingdom had come to suffer.

Though, perhaps he had wished to force their hand, to make Asgard fall into such a hole that their only way out would be to _change._ Perhaps—

No.

That way lay only more pain. Thor and Odin would never agree to shift their politics that radically. The simplest and fastest way to solve their current money problem was for Loki to marry into the royal family of Alfheim, and gain their support.

That would have to be enough for Loki. It needed to be.

The castle felt more alive than it had in weeks. For the first time since the first theft, the talk in the halls was not of the Hood, but of warriors and knights, of swords and bows. Oh, there were still a few mutterings of lost possessions, but Loki assumed that the Hood must have been distracted by the announcement of the engagement since he had not taken the huge haul – had not made the _statement_ – that he had told Loki he would. The items he had stolen, in comparison to the past, were mere trinkets.

Besides, it seemed that everyone who had been at the party the night before was nursing something of a rather horrid headache just as Freyr was, the result of Loki’s seiðr. Well… _that_ might make for an interesting tourney.

But, despite the rampant hangovers, the majority of those in the castle were _excited._

Loki wondered if it would be the same in the town. Somehow, he doubted it. Entertainment and competition could raise spirits, yes, but when the whole town was aware of what this tourney had cost them…

On a whim, Loki turned from the direction he had been heading in and went to find Lord Tyr. It might be worth asking him to place extra Einherjar guards.

Just in case.

His detour delayed him some – though thankfully, Tyr was rather cooperative, though more because he was annoyed over the loss of his brooch than because he feared a peasant uprising might be in the works – and Loki had to quicken his step to make it to the tourney grounds on time.

The grounds were well decorated, strewn with banners of gold. The stands were teeming with people– mostly nobles dressed in bright colours, attended by their servants. There were also many peasants, though they of course did not have seats, standing around the edges of the grounds on stands of their own. Although there were many drawn in by one of the only days of entertainment they were granted during the year, it was hardly close to all of them. Yet many more would still remain in the fields or at their trade, unable to lose even one day of work without there being a risk of going hungry.

The thought didn’t sit quite right with Loki. The tourney was something for the _whole_ of Asgard, and if they couldn’t all enjoy it, then… perhaps it should not be going ahead.

Once again, Loki was forced to rein his mind back in. This tourney was not about entertainment, it was about _Freyr_ and the alliance. That was all.

Whether the peasants could attend or not, the tourney must continue.

When Loki stepped into the raised box furnished with comfortable chairs, side tables, food, and mead– it was to find Freyr already there, sitting at ease in one of the chairs.

Loki tried not to sigh, and took his own seat.

Freyr, of course, turned to him immediately. “Oh, good,” he exclaimed. “I was starting to worry that you might have become lost!”

“Not in my own kingdom,” Loki said, his smile tight. “I was merely making sure that everything was in order before we began.”

Freyr shrugged at that, and reached to pick up a small piece of cake from one of the platters beside his chair.

Thanks to Loki’s lateness, they did not need to wait long before he received the signal that the first event was ready to begin. He rose and stood at the front of the box, where the audience would be able to see him. He waited a moment, for a few people to notice him and begin shushing those around them before he moved to open the tourney.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Asgard,” Loki started, holding out his arms as he addressed the gathered crowd with the loudest voice he could manage without falling into a shout. But, thankfully, it would seem that a shout was not needed– as the crowd fell silent at the start of his words, clearly eager to begin. “We are here today to celebrate the alliance between two great kingdoms– our Asgard, and Alfheim. We will baptise the alliance with deeds of valour as the competitors fight for their prize!”

Loki gestured out across the grounds—

And opposite him– where a heavy cloth was ripped from a large, hanging object, and then a low gasp resounded across the stands. 

Loki’s lips curled. The idea hadn’t been his own– it had actually been one of Sif’s, one that at the time Loki had only begrudgingly accepted. Because it _was_ a good idea, no matter whose mouth it had come out of.

The prize money, you see, was locked in something of a cage, and was hanging on a thick chain over the crowd of peasants– opposite the nobles, so that each and every one of them could keep an eye on it.

It was out in the open, easy to see– and near impossible to steal. Any attempt to do so would be immediately noticed.

There was no way that the Hood would be able to get his own hands on it.

It seemed foolproof, and if the Hood were to try anything now, he would surely be foiled.

_Good._

Once the gasps had died down, Loki continued—

“There it is, where all of us can keep an eye on it–and where it cannot be touched. The prizes will go to the best among us, and I ask you– are you ready to see our champions fight for it?”

The crowd let out a loud, raucous cheer, and Loki couldn’t help the smile that curled at his lips.

“Well then, let the games begin!”

He introduced the first event – one on one duels with swords, to ensure that the crowd were properly excited from the start. It would be followed by events such as archery and targets, then the joust, and then the melee would come last.

For the first event, the fighters worked their way through elimination rounds, the winner of each moving up the ladder until there were only two fighters left. Thor did well despite his _headache_, Loki was glad to see– and so was Freyr, who had apparently placed a rather substantial amount of coin on his victory.

“The odds, of course, were not particularly profitable,” Freyr said as he pocketed the money that was brought up for him. “But when you know that someone is going to win, why would you bet otherwise?”

“Why indeed,” Loki sighed. He knew that the odds on Sif were almost as low as Thor, especially given that she had more experience with the sword– but Thor was able to best her in the final.

Following the swords, the grounds were quickly set up for archery and the bowmen made their way into their place. Loki had always preferred watching archery over the swords, for despite the way some swordsman could make their skill look like a dance the archery required a certain level of concentration, and could cause the whole audience to hold their breath with a shadow of silence rather than the rough shouts which usually accompanied the clanging of blades.

Following the archery, of course, was targets.

Targets was the event that Loki would have participated in, had he not been overseeing the entire thing, the one where it did not matter which weapon you used. It allowed him to use his throwing daggers, which otherwise did not have any use in such a tourney.

But due to the nature of it, targets was something that _anyone_ could enter. For while bows were expensive to buy and difficult to make, anyone could piece together a slingshot, and even the lowest of peasants could participate, for a far lower entry fee than any of the other events.

Of course, that meant that the prize was also far less, but that had never bothered Loki– and it was still substantial enough to draw in hopeful commoners.

That, in turn, meant that there were far more participants as well, and the crowd of people that pooled out to take their turn at the target was rather large. Loki couldn’t help but scan the group, knowing that one of them had to be Stark. He had signed up, after all, his name was on the list and he had paid his coin.

But there really were so many people, and even though Loki should have been able to pick Stark out as one of the few in fine armour, he still could not spot him.

He tried not to let himself feel disappointed by that fact– or unnerved.

As Loki had thought before, the first person to step up was a peasant with a rather rudimentary slingshot. He looked rather young, not quite yet grown, and he took aim by closing one of his eyes.

He hit the target, but only _just, _his pebble skittering along the very edge. Loki found himself almost impressed– it was actually a good shot for such a weapon. But at the same time… he would have thought that the peasantry would only sign up if they believed they had a chance of winning, as even though the entry was less than for the other events, it was still coin– and Loki knew now that every coin counted. Surely they would not be as prone to gambling away their meagre funds as the rich?

Yet the competitors who followed were also of similar stock, some managing to hit the outer lines, others not hitting the target at all.

It was almost ludicrous when a man in Einherjar uniform toed the line and raised his castle-made crossbow, hitting the target almost exactly in the centre. Loki might not have even noticed such things before, but… it just seemed rather unfair.

Regardless, Loki watched as the line started to dwindle, and when they came to about half way through– one man stepped forward with no weapon at all.

He approached the line with a straight back, his hands held loosely at his sides. He was wearing a cloak of fine material, dark green in colour– and Loki realised with a sharp jolt that it was one of _his._

Loki was out of his seat in a moment, his hands clutching the wooden barrier and a warning already on his lips—

But did he dare shout, and alert the man that he knew? Did he dare risk him running, when Loki knew how difficult he was to catch—

But before Loki could make up his mind, the man raised one hand toward the target—

And then he spun on his heel, dropped to one knee and _fired—_

And his bolt hit the wooden beam in front of Loki, right between his hands.

There was a beat of quiet– and then the stands burst into an uproar, shouts and cries of nobles’ panic echoing through the air. 

Loki’s attention, though, was drawn to the bolt in front of him– for attached to it was a strip of parchment. Moving more on instinct than thought, Loki grasped it and pulled it free, holding the torn paper between his hands.

[I’m sorry.]

Loki stared at the words, not truly comprehending what they said—

But then, he grit his teeth, and he crumpled the note into a tight ball. 

Sorry?

The man was _sorry?_

After everything that he had put Loki through, surely he did not believe that two words could change a thing?

The very thought had Loki burning with a rage, a fire ripping through his whole body on the wings of three simple syllables.

Loki spun, hardly even thinking. He looked past Freyr to the Einjerhji standing at the entrance to his box. “Go and tell Lord Tyr that you and your comrades need to block all the exits, surround this whole place,” he hissed. “There are enough warriors down there to fight him, but we need to make sure that he can’t _run.”_

The Einherji seemed more than a little reluctant to leave his post, but he did as Loki ordered. Then Loki turned back to the front of the box, needing to see what was happening—

“I don’t think you should have sent away the guard.”

Loki turned to Freyr, unimpressed. The man was out of his seat, his hand on his sword, his eyes flickering around the box as if he expected the Hood might leap from between the cracks in the wood.

“He can’t protect us any better than we could protect ourselves,” Loki muttered. “You’re a fighter, yes?”

“I _can_ fight,” Freyr corrected. “But I’ve never—”

“You’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t like the Hood hurt people, anyway. But Loki saw no need to mention that little titbit, and merely hid his smirk as he turned back.

He did so just in time to see the Hood dart between two commoners and duck around the Einherji with the crossbow, before leaping up into the stands right in front of Loki’s box.

It would seem that this had been planned so very well– because the majority of the competitors currently on the grounds were _commoners,_ and of course not one of them made a move to stop the Hood. In fact, the commoners seemed to be making it their mission to slow the more high-born competitors down.

“Freyr,” Loki said sharply. “We should leave.”

But Freyr lifted his sword, and stepped forward. “No, you are right,” he said. “The Hood will be no match for the pair of—”

Freyr’s words were cut short by a literal kick to the head as a hooded figure swung himself into the box, hands on the front edge of the wooden ceiling. Freyr wasn’t knocked out, but he was stunned—

And there was nothing Freyr could do as the blade of a knife was pressed to his throat.

Loki recognised the blade. It was the one Stark had been wearing on his hip the night before, the one he said the Hood had stolen. Well, it would seem that there were some trinkets that the Hood saw fit to withhold for himself, after all.

Unless, of course, it had been his all along.

Loki forced the thought away, focused on the present. “What do you want?” he hissed.

“You know the answer to that,” the Hood replied. His voice was softer than Loki would have liked, and he retorted with harshness in return.

“If you want the prize money, you can’t have it,” Loki snapped.

“Oh, I don’t want _that,”_ the Hood replied. “You really have thwarted me this time, with your little bird cage. Congrats. But that’s not the only money here, now is it?”

The blade pressed a little harder, and Freyr squirmed.

“Come now, Prince Freyr,” the Hood said, his voice turning to a hiss as he leaned toward the elf’s ear. “Empty your pockets of that coin you won. And do not try to lie, I heard you speaking of it with Prince Thor last night.”

Freyr wasted no time pulling the purse of coins from his belt, and the Hood took it with one hand, never shifting his blade.

“Good,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any, Prince Loki?”

The use of titles rubbed at Loki the wrong way. Perhaps it was that the word sounded so very different to the way Loki had come used to hearing it, a gently whispered _my prince_ which had only days before been the sweetest highlight of his fantasies. Or perhaps it was simply that he now knew the meaning was false, that there was no intended respect in the word.

Either way, it had Loki spitting back, “I know you’re not about to kill him, especially not when you know that doing so will hurt relations between Alfheim and Asgard, hurting the people _more._ If you want anything from me, _Hood,_ then you’re going to have to fight me for it.”

The Hood’s mask shifted in that tell-tale sign of a smirk, and Loki steeled his nerve—

But then they were hit with the sound of footsteps hammering up the wooden stairs, growing all the louder, and the Hood glanced over in the same moment that Loki did. Freyr took that chance to try and pull free—

The Hood slammed the hilt of his knife to the top of Freyr’s head– and this time, he _was_ knocked out, slumping down to the ground.

Loki shoved the ball of parchment into a pocket and lifted his hands, daggers sliding down from his sleeves, pooling his seiðr in preparation for a fight. He still did not doubt that he could take the Hood– it was still _catching_ him that was the problem.

And, as if to prove the point, the moment that Thor and Fandral exploded into the box, the Hood first threw Loki a wink and then threw _himself_ over the edge of the barrier.

Thor cursed—

Loki matched it—

And Fandral snorted. “Well, he certainly knows how to make an exit—”

“Don’t just joke,” Loki snapped. “Get _after_ him! I’ll follow, you two go down the stairs and make sure to cut him off!”

Thor and Fandral immediately dashed back the way they had come, and Loki perched up on top of the barrier before swinging himself over. The Hood was already making his way down the stands, stepping on the backs of chairs. He was hindered slightly by the panicking nobles who were all trying to run – not one of them thinking to make a grab for him of course – but he was already almost halfway down. Loki continued after him, his heart beating so hard he could hear it even over the shouts.

There were Einjerhar entering the stands, and Loki almost cursed– he’d _told_ them that they needed to keep to the perimeter, hadn’t he? The grounds too were starting to flood with people, except—

Oh, Norns.

Loki paused half way down the stands, one leg up on a chair as he _stared. _Because somehow, the tourney grounds were now teeming with people wearing dark, hooded jackets. They weren’t all _exactly_ the same, but they were similar enough that from a distance one would not easily be able to tell if they were the truth thief or not.

It would seem that the commoners who had entered the targets had a motive other than money. Just as they had been the first night Loki had chased the Hood through the town, the peasants had turned into a _disguise._

Once again, Loki caught himself cursing, for the Hood was already lost in the crowd. Einherjar and warriors alike stood confused on the outskirts for a moment– before they surged forward, and began pulling hoods off every head that they could reach.

The commoners did not fight back. Loki wanted to tear at his hair, because this– this would only make everything _worse,_ because now the Einherjar were essentially attacking the _people._ This was only going to make the tensions between the two groups even harsher than they already were.

But there was nothing that he could do—

“People of Asgard!”

As that familiar voice rang out across the grounds, Loki held himself still, hoping his higher vantage point would allow him a better view, so that he could signal to Thor the moment his eyes landed upon the speaker. 

“This is _wrong._ So many of you are swimming in wealth while the majority are on the brink of starvation! The prize for just one event would be enough to feed three families for a year, and then you gamble even _more_ silver away. You’ve leached your kingdom dry with taxes to spend on tourneys, whittling away at your people to show off to other realms. The people are dying, and this needs to _stop!”_

On the last word, one of the people below held up their hand—

And Loki went to shout, but– before he could, the Hood fired his concealed weapon, bolts shooting through the air one after another. But this time, rather than shooting toward a person or to send a message, the bolts struck through the bars of the hanging cage.

The bags of money holding the prize for the tourney split open, and silver coins scattered down to the ground– falling directly over the peasant’s stands.

The commoners, of course, had not panicked when the nobles had– and they all cried out in delight as they scrabbled at the ground to collect the fallen silver. And even as the Einherjar surged forward Loki knew that there would be no stopping them. There were simply too many. 

That money was lost.

Down below, Thor charged forward with a cry, Mjölnir in his hand now rather than his tourney sword, Sif and Fandral flanking him. That seemed to be enough to scatter the crowd, the commoners hurrying in every direction– and the Einherjar let them go, because they could all see the one they wanted.

The Hood was running, dashing toward a small gate along the edge of the tourney grounds, the one where wounded competitors could be carried to the medicine tent. Unweighted by weapons and heavy armour as the others were, the Hood was far faster. Add on to that the fact that the others were still suffering the effects from the night before –that _must_ have been part of the plan, Loki realised – and it was looking like the Hood was going to get away.

At least until four Einherjar soldiers stepped through the gate and pointed their weapons at the approaching man, stopping him in his tracks.

They must have secured the perimeter, just as Loki had told them to.

Loki felt something thick stick in his throat, and one dagger slid back up into his sleeve as he reached into his pocket, curling his hand around a crumpled slip of parchment as he watched Sif’s blade press against the side of the Hood’s neck.

“You are under _arrest,”_ she spat, her voice carrying even up to Loki as her expression twisted into a snarl of complete and utter _hatred._

The Hood, though… when he turned, he did not turn to look at her. Instead, his head tilted up toward the stands, toward _Loki._ And Loki watched as Sif lifted her hand, as she _yanked_ away the hood and tore the scarf from the man’s face.

But even as gasps resounded through the crowd, even as Thor yelled and swore and every person watching broke into a chorus of cruel curses, brown eyes just stared up at Loki.

And Loki… did nothing, his hand a tight fist, the points of the scrunched parchment cutting into his palm.

The Hood – _Stark –_ had wanted nothing more than to manipulate Loki into helping the people. He hadn’t cared about Loki, or the fact that he had come to hold Loki’s heart in his hands.

He hadn’t _cared,_ and Loki—

Loki should have known better.

And as Sif and Thor dragged Stark away, Loki just turned on his heel… and left.


	9. Execution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Square N5**— _Prompt: Gallows._

Loki should have been happy.

How many months had it been since he had sworn to see the Hood brought to justice? How many sleepless nights had he spent searching for a way to catch the seemingly uncatchable? How many hours had he exhausted working toward _this very moment?_

The outlaw had been his goal for so very long, every thought in his mind, every beat of his heart. Every part of him had been focused on the Hood – in one way or another – for such a long time, that now he was finally free surely he should have felt _relief_ at the very least?

But, all he felt was… emptiness.

It was as if his mind had gone blank, as if everything that had ever made him feel _anything_ had been torn away.

It wasn’t like this was a project he could move on from, it wasn’t like he could simply shift toward the next thing to be done.

Not, of course, that there _weren’t_ things to be done, he just… couldn’t think to do them. Every other task felt pale, as if colour had been leached from the world. As if they no longer _mattered._

And yes, he could have gone back to the library. He could have been preparing for his travel to Alfheim, preparing to meet his new _spouse._ He could have been joining in with the celebrations outside, or he could have followed Thor and Sif to see their prisoner properly secured—

But now that the Hood was caught and Loki was to be married to Freyja, it would seem that all of Loki’s previous work and research was for naught. Asgard would rebuild, would recover, would return to her former–glory. Perhaps the commoners would be no better off, but without the Hood to fight for them, Loki had little doubt that they would fall back to exactly where they were before.

Well, there _was_ the chance the Hood – that _Stark_ might become something of a martyr, but Loki doubted it. The system set up by his forefathers worked too well, and forced the peasants to work so hard to survive that they had no energy left for rebellion. The only reason Stark had the time and the energy to do something about it was because he wasn’t a commoner himself, and didn’t have the same worries.

And without anyone to fight for them now… well, Loki doubted that anything he had managed to find in the library would help, because now there was nothing to convince Thor that changes needed to be made.

Any hope was a lost cause. All Loki could do now was… _wait._

He found himself in the Hall, fingers tearing apart a piece of bread that a servant had hesitantly placed in front of him. No one else was there– they were all outside, celebrating the capture of the Hood, preparing for his sentencing. Perhaps it wasn’t the best place for Loki to be, as it left him alone with his thoughts, but… there was nowhere else for him to go. His quarters would be worse, what with the memories they held, and the thought of _celebrating _left a sour taste on his tongue.

Yes, he _should_ have been happy.

But he wasn’t.

Loki’s fist clenched, the bread squishing to a pulp between his fingers, his eyes still staring sightlessly at the table.

What was _wrong_ with him? The Hood – _Stark –_ had manipulated him, betrayed him, thrown him away like a used piece of parchment. Loki owed him _nothing._

But…

The people.

_Asgard._

Loki still owed them.

Of course, _that_ must be what was bothering him– it wasn’t Stark himself he was concerned about, it was the _people_. Yes, things were going to go back to the way they were and no, Loki wouldn’t be able to convince Thor to make any changes. The only way that he was going to be able to make things better would be if he did it _himself_—

And with the betrothal already decided, he didn’t have a lot of time.

Letting the mangled bread fall from his hands – and ignoring the twinge of guilt at the sight of the wasted food – Loki stood from the table and swept toward the door, intent on a singular purpose.

He needed to see how people were reacting. Judge what the commoners were going to _do._ If he just sat in the castle, he was blind—

And he refused to allow the Hood to continue to cripple him like that.

Loki wasn’t far from the Hall, however, when he was stopped, a shout echoing along the corridor.

“Loki!” Thor exclaimed, hurrying forward. “I was just looking for you! The date and time of the Hood’s trial has been set, I was wondering if you wished to join me in writing up the—”

“Sorry, Thor,” Loki said, not even pausing as he passed by. “I have other matters to attend to. I am sure you will do a marvellous job.”

But Thor caught his wrist, pulled him back. “Then at least take a look at this, will you? I’m not sure what to make of it, but I think it might interest you.”

Loki looked at the item Thor shoved into his hand with disinterest at first, planning to shove it right back– but then then he realised what it was that he held.

It was… a miniature crossbow, of a sort, though the limbs were far too small to be able to shoot anything. Instead, it seemed to be powered by a combination of gears and springs, and attached to an ingenious mechanism which appeared capable of reloading another bolt the moment that the springs were pulled back. The entire thing rested upon a leather cuff, an extra piece of which seemed intended to hook over the wearer’s palm and attached to the firing mechanism. A jerk of the wrist would be the only thing required to shoot, and all one would need to aim was a steady arm.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Thor said, cutting through Loki’s examination.

Loki’s lips pressed together. He couldn’t help but be impressed, though the feeling was laced with bitterness.

“We know that Stark is a master smith,” Loki said, speaking through gritted teeth. “This should not come as a surprise.”

Thor’s expression twisted. “I can’t believe it was _Stark,”_ he muttered. “Hiding right under our noses! And to think, he was the one who funded the Hood’s bounty! I suppose he must have thought that he would never be caught, but I wonder why he would want people hunting him—”

“Excuse me,” Loki snapped, the hostility in his tone not only due to impatience. “I meant it when I said that I have things I need to do.” He turned again and continued on his way, ignoring Thor’s shout.

His step _did_ falter for one moment as he put together what Thor had been saying before– and he wondered if perhaps he shouldn’t have taken his brother up on that offer, to help collect affidavits and write up the charge sheet. After all, he had rather learned his lesson about missing meetings that he _thought_ to be unimportant.

But once again, he forced the thought from his head.

He knew what mattered now, he’d reorganised his priorities.

Stark had made his bed, he’d broken the law. There were _other_ ways to help people, and Loki would make sure that they were done.

He only realised that he hadn’t given Thor back the weapon when he reached the castle doors– but looking at it gave him something of an idea. He had only planned to hide himself with his seiðr, but… perhaps there was another way to go about it, a way that would not only work more effectively but might help to calm his own heart. For now, though, the weapon went securely into a pocket of his coat. 

As he hurried down the castle steps and through the courtyard, Loki passed by the many celebrating nobles. The tourney hadn’t been finished, what with the interruption and the loss of the prize money, but the planned feast was continuing ahead. Tables were spread with food, people danced, roared with joy and victory. It was a greater event than even the one from the night before, yet Loki walked straight through it.

As he passed through the open gatehouse, he tried not to think on the chase which had started there, or on the night which had begun with him looking up at the battlements. He stared straight ahead as he walked forward, and then paused only long enough to duck into the shadow of a house to shroud himself with seiðr before making his way further into the town.

The tourney had taken a good portion of the day, and Loki had been sitting in the Hall for some time after that. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, painting the eaves of the houses orange and casting the streets in shadows. It was easy to move unseen, and it wasn’t long before Loki neared the town square.

The open space meant less shadows, but Loki stuck to the edge– or well, he _did_, until he heard a bit of a commotion going on.

It was a group of Einherjar, forcing the people to remove the hoods they were wearing. It seemed that the commoners had not seen fit to take them off even after the outlaw had been caught, though it looked like there were far more of them now than there had been before. For a moment, Loki wondered if this was the remnants of the Hood’s escape plan, if he had hoped to make it here and then lose himself among the crowd once again. Perhaps, after that, they would have found Stark tied up and innocent in his forge.

But then Loki took better note– he saw that while the commoners who had participated in the Targets event had donned dark coats that almost matched the Hood’s, these people simply wore a hood of any colour, over any kind of clothing. They wouldn’t have been enough to hide an outlaw, they were just…

_Oh._

They weren’t a disguise at all.

The hoods were a _tribute._

Loki felt something stick in his throat– and it exploded out as an order, his seiðr falling away as he marched toward the Einherjar.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

The Einherjar looked up, anger on their faces– but their expressions melted to deference when they saw who it was that had spoken.

“Prince Loki,” one said. “Prince Thor ordered that we ensure no hoods are to be worn in Asgard—”

“Why?” Loki snapped– he _knew_ the reason, of course, but it did not sit well with him. Not when he could clearly see that this wasn’t the rebellion Thor might fear. “They are not hurting anyone, and we _have_ the Hood already. Leave them be.”

The Einherji who had spoken looked uncomfortable. And while Loki _could_ understand that the soldier didn’t want to go against the crown prince, the fact that meant that they were going against _him_ bristled him the wrong way.

“I will deal with Thor myself,” Loki hissed. “Go back to the castle.”

“But—”

“Are you arguing against my orders?” Loki arched a brow, and the Einherji swallowed.

“No, sire.”

“_Good._ Then you will leave, and leave these people alone.”

With that, the Einherjar bowed their heads, and together they marched away from the town square.

Loki didn’t doubt that there would be more of them, but he hoped that the message would be passed along. And then he turned to the surrounding people—

Only to be met with scared stares.

They shrunk back from him despite the touch of defiance to their expressions, they averted their gaze even as their posture tensed.

And, well. Loki could see that he was not wanted.

He hadn’t expected thanks for his actions, not after all that these people had been through. They no doubt expected he had only shooed the soldiers so that he could carry out something equally awful of his own design.

After the way that Loki’s eyes had been opened to the disparity between life in the castle and in the town, he could not blame them in the slightest.

He simply gave their stony silence a slight nod of acknowledgement, and then he melted back between the buildings, back into the shadows.

And yet, he could not bring himself to leave.

Instead of heading back to the castle, Loki hefted himself up a wall of an empty building and onto the roof, taking care not to dislodge the thatch with his boots. It was something he had become somewhat practiced in, and he lay down on his belly to edge closer to the eaves, so that he could look out over the square.

And what he saw… took his breath away.

While the celebrations up at the castle had been loud and bright, the sombre mood in the square was something else entirely. Devoid of pretty colours and decoration, the commoners made do– earlier, Loki hadn’t noticed what they’d each held in their hands, but as sparks of light danced all between them, Loki realised that each and every one of them – from the oldest man to the youngest child – held some kind of candle.

They weren’t the expensive beeswax candles that lit the castle, instead misshapen and bearing a touch of the scent of tallow, but they burned well against the setting of the sun, the people’s hands protected from hot wax with any myriad of objects from proper pewter candleholders to wooden cups and plates. And as Loki watched, the flame spread through the assembled group in the square, the people of Asgard touching their candles until all were lit—

And then they raised their lights to the sky, the sound of a sombre melody dancing through the air.

Loki swallowed against the lump in his throat as he listened to them, but as much as he felt he should turn away he still could not bring himself to do it.

The sight, the _sound_ of them– it was enough to have his eyes starting to itch.

They weren’t quite mourning. Not _yet,_ anyway. Loki had thought the word tribute before, and really, that’s what it _was–_ they were saying thank you to the one who had done so much to help them, who had in the end sacrificed everything.

And Loki… he couldn’t help it. He’d thought of doing so before, but now, his seiðr wrapped around him almost of its own accord, shifting the ceremonial armour he had donned for the tourney into the dark hooded coat he had worn during better nights spent in ignorance as he ran hand in hand with an outlaw. 

It wasn’t the man he thought of now, not the person who had squashed his heart like little more than a bug. He thought of the symbol of hope these people had held on to for so long, the light that they had now lost.

And finally, he felt like he was able to move.

On a whim, he strapped the miniature crossbow he had taken from Thor to his wrist as he did so, making his way toward the Hood’s store. He found them with ease, and slung several sacks over his shoulders, lightening them with his seiðr to make them more manageable. His first stops were the houses that bore the white, circular mark of the Hood, leaving piles of coins on their doorsteps and windowsills.

He knew that he should save some of it, that with the Hood locked away there would be no more money stolen and that he should spread it out as evenly as possible. But many of the people would have coin now thanks to the Hood’s actions at the tourney, and they would be okay for a while. Loki could afford to give the remains of the stash to those who needed it _now._

Perhaps… perhaps that had been part of the Hood’s plan. To go out at a time when he could be sure the commoners would be all right without him– at least for a little while.

Loki forced himself to focus, not wanting to think that way. The Hood could not have _planned_ to get caught, that was ridiculous.

He dashed over the rooftops, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him, but allowing them to dance through his mind nonetheless. Letting himself remember, just this once, before letting go.

After what he’d seen in the square, it felt appropriate.

He stuck to the shadows, he used his seiðr to leave what he needed to and then melted back to the darkness– but he couldn’t help following the Hood’s old ritual, sometimes waiting to watch as the person inside the house opened their door, or noticed what lay on their sill.

And as the whispers reached him… well, he did not smile. It put something cold and sharp through his chest, and yet somehow, the feeling wasn’t a bad one.

_Norns bless you._

_Thank you._

_Be safe._

The last one had something thick lodging in Loki’s chest, and he’d had to turn away. There were a few parcels of coins left, and he used his seiðr to distribute them but no longer waited, just hurrying away the moment it was done. Well, until—

“Hey. Hood.”

Loki stopped.

His head whipped around as he searched for the source of the voice–for while that was not his name, there was no one else that they could be referring to.

There was someone standing on the roof behind him, a little out of breath. He was leaning slightly forward, as if half reaching out, the dim light of almost dawn shining over his dark skin and reflecting on the gold of his armour.

He wasn’t wearing a helm, but Loki still recognised the uniform of the Einherjar.

“I am not the Hood,” Loki said, masking his voice with his seiðr. “The Hood is—”

“I know,” the Einherji said. “I know where he is, and I know what he did.” There was something hard in his tone that put Loki on edge– but the man did not step any closer. “Listen. I’ve been searching for you everywhere. They sentenced him last night. The Hood is to be executed. If you want to see him again, then you’re going to need to—”

“What do you know of this?” Loki demanded. “You don’t know who I am—”

“Tony is my friend.” The man smiled just slightly, though the expression was just as sad as it was fond. “I know him better than anyone, and I know all about you. I told him that he shouldn’t have hurt you the way that he did, but—”

“But he cared about the people more than he could ever care for a prince,” Loki spat. He spoke before realising that he would give away who he was– but the Einherji did not look surprised. It seemed he was telling the truth. Which meant– “It was you then, I suppose?” Loki asked, unable to keep the harshness out of his tone. “You’re the reason he was able to move through the castle so easily, you’re the reason he was so hard to catch?”

“If I told you the truth, you’d be forced to arrest me.”

Loki allowed his lips to curl, hidden by his mask as they were. “I think,” he said, “I would need to arrest us both.” Then he sighed. “If you know what happened, why did you come to find me now? You know what he did to me, so you know that—”

“I know that you don’t want him dead,” the Einherji cut in. “No matter how much you’re trying to deny it. I saw what you did back in the square.”

Loki closed his fist. As he did so, he felt the pull of the leather strap around his wrist, the _reminder_ of what he had to lose.

Of what the _kingdom_ had to lose.

“If that is the punishment that Thor has decided upon—”

“You cannot tell me you think he deserves to die for trying to help people _live,” _the Einherji said. “He did nothing but try to help, you know that. You just said it yourself. And yes, he made some mistakes along the way. But can you stand by while Anthony Stark is executed? Can you see someone so harshly punished for nothing more than loving his kingdom? What a way to inspire loyalty.”

Loki found himself unsure of how to respond, because– the Einherji was right. But it would take the loss of more pride than Loki was willing to give to admit it.

“My prince,” the guard said, his tone turning a little rough. “Tony is to be executed at dawn.”

Immediately and rather without his consent, Loki’s gaze flicked to the east, where the tip of the sun was already beginning to lick over the edge of the horizon.

And his heart all but stopped in his chest.

“We don’t have long, and we’re all he has,” the Einherji started. “If we don’t– hey, where are you going?”

“The castle!” Loki called back over his shoulder, his feet already carrying him swiftly over the rooftop.

“I’ll secure an escape,” the Einherji called back. “Get him out!”

Loki hardly heard him, he just kept on running, running faster than he ever had before, faster than when he’d chased an outlaw through the night.

Because the Einherji was right. The Hood had broken his heart, had torn it right to shreds– but Loki did not want to see him dead. Not for a crime that shouldn’t have been a crime at all.

Not when the thought of Stark being lost forever was enough to have Loki’s heart breaking all over again.

He could feel the warmth at his back as he ran, feeling as if he were racing the changing colour of the sky. There were people walking the streets below, not all headed in the same direction but enough that it gave Loki hope, that it kept him pushing forward.

He didn’t pause as he reached the castle gates. He didn’t pause as he hurried toward the crowd surrounding the rarely-used gallows near the walls of the courtyard. There were a few of the hoods from the night before among them, and he was grateful that his past actions would help disguise his own movements now. 

He _did_ pause, however, when he caught sight of the man standing up upon the gibbet, staring out at the crowd with an expression of utmost defiance, a noose hanging tight around his neck. Almost ironically… Stark wore no hood.

“Anthony Stark.”

Thor’s voice boomed out across the courtyard, jumping Loki back to focus– and he pushed forward toward the crowd. But the people were tightly packed together, so many of them there to witness the execution of Asgard’s most infamous outlaw.

“You stand convicted of robbery, thievery, trespassing, and treason. For these callous and injurious crimes, you are sentenced to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the Norns have mercy on your soul.”

Loki’s heart was in his throat as he watched Thor gesture to Skurge, the executioner– but the crowd was too thick. The commoners who looked at him gasped and moved out of his way, but it wasn’t enough, he wasn’t going to make it—

And Skurge was reaching out, placing his hands on the lever to pull open the trap door under Stark’s feet—

“Stop!” Loki used his seiðr not to mask his voice but to _enhance_ it, and it rang out across the courtyard even louder than Thor’s had.

Everyone turned in Loki’s direction, but he only cared about the men atop the gallows. Stark’s eyes were wide, Thor looked surprised– and Skurge had turned, but his hand was still on the lever, and his movement caused him to pull it—

Loki cried out as the bar under the trapdoor shifted with a _clunk,_ and he thrust out with his hand—

Green seiðr exploded from it and raced toward Stark, reaching him in a split second that felt far too long. But just as the trapdoor fell open, that tendril of green power curled around Stark’s body, holding him in place.

The rope was still around Stark’s neck, and Loki’s seiðr was all that was preventing him from falling. If Loki lost focus for even a moment, Stark’s neck would snap, and he would be dead.

If he were lucky, that is. Hanging is not a particularly pleasant way to go.

A gasp resonated through the crowd, and the people around Loki all stepped away, leaving him standing alone and in clear sight of everyone on and around the gallows.

“Loki?” Thor stepped forward on the gibbet, frowning. “Surely that is not you?”

“No!” Stark called out. “Don’t—!”

But lips twisting into a snarl, Loki reached up with his free hand to tear the hood from his head, and the mask from his face. Thor’s eyes widened as mutters surged through the gathered crowd, but Loki gave neither a moment to process.

“You must let him down,” Loki said, his left arm still holding steady. “You must _stop this.”_

“He has been sentenced according to our laws,” Thor said, his voice turning hard as his gaze moved over the clothes Loki was wearing. “You would dispute that, brother?”

“He was acting on _my_ orders,” Loki said, speaking quickly as his mind raced, searching for a way out.

“What do you mean?” Thor barked. “Loki, why are you dressed like—”

“If the people of the court cannot protect their own belongings– if the guards cannot keep out a single thief, then how are we to rule a kingdom? I tasked Stark with challenging our defences, with seeing how far he could get before we could stop him. Apparently, the answer is a _very_ long way, and that is simply not acceptable. It’s our duty to protect this kingdom, Thor, and you _cannot_ condemn Stark for helping us do it.”

Loki didn’t need to look at Stark to know he would likely be frustrated by that, but the other man would just have to put up with it.

“You’re saying you did this as a training exercise?” Thor exclaimed. “_Loki—”_

“Not an exercise,” Loki snapped. “A _test._ To see if the castle – if _we_ – were capable of defence. And it would seem that we are not.”

Thor was starting to turn a funny colour– but Stark was just watching Loki now, his eyes wide. There was a touch of fear in them, and it was clear that he was holding himself very, very still, as if trying not to jostle the magic which was the only thing preventing him from plummeting to his death.

“What of the things you stole?” Thor asked.

“We sold them,” Loki said, just as harsh.

“The money, then,” Thor continued, his voice strained. “The payment for the items that you sold—”

“We don’t have it,” Loki snapped. “The money that we gained, we gave _back_ to the people. Anything else would have destroyed the ruse—”

“Then in trying to defend Asgard, you nearly destroyed her—”

“No, Thor,” Loki said. “_You_ nearly destroyed her. All the countermeasures you put in place, all the moves you made. You prioritised a tourney and catching a thief over the welfare of our people and they _suffered_ for it.”

All around Loki, the crowd were starting to jitter– the majority were commoners after all, likely let in to be crushed by the sight of their hero swinging on the end of a rope. But they all knew the truth, they all knew Loki was _right, _and not one looked willing to stand the lie. Not anymore.

Knowing they stood behind him on this gave Loki strength, keeping his shaking arm aloft.

“The Hood was a _criminal,”_ Thor insisted, looking out over the sea of unrest with a touch of nervousness. “He broke the law, and you gave me no indication of your plans—”

“Then you agree to let him down now?”

“By your own admission, he still stole, he still committed treason. His sentence still stands—”

“Executing him will achieve nothing,” Loki insisted. “Nothing except the murder of a _good man,_ and the loss of all respect the townspeople or _I_ still hold for you.”

“Loki, you cannot do this,” Thor said. “The law is the law—”

“Then I committed the same crimes,” Loki cut in. “You see the clothes I wear. I was as much the Hood as he, and if Stark is to be executed, then by the _laws_ of Asgard you must execute me as well.”

Slowly, keeping his arm as steady as he could, Loki moved forward. The crowd parted for him as he expected they would– but he did _not_ expect people to slide in beside and behind him, to flak him as he approached the gallows. It was so very different from their reaction to him the night before that Loki might not have been able to believe it had he not seen it with his own eyes. 

Up on the gibbet, Thor’s eyes widened– as did Stark’s, his lips parting slightly as he watched Loki approach.

“So what will it be, brother?” Loki asked. “Both of us? Or neither?”

There was a moment where their gazes held, where the tension between them was almost tangible—

“Oh, for the love of Asgard,” came a hiss—

And then out of nowhere, Sif dashed from the side, tackling Loki and plowing into him with her shoulder. Loki snarled and pushed her away easily– but it came at the cost of his concentration, and when he looked up, the seiðr around Stark was already fading—

There was a second to make a decision, a second to make the choice.

Loki’s right arm raised—

Stark’s eyes widened as he fell and rope pulled taut—

And then it snapped as Loki’s perfectly aimed bolt sliced straight through it, cutting it cleanly and sending Stark tumbling to the ground.

What followed was chaos, the townsfolk falling on Sif and the others who came to help her like rabid dogs. There was a rage to them that Loki hadn’t seen before, something feral born only from generations of torment. Fandral ran up from beside the gibbet, flanked by Volstagg and Hogun. There were Einherjar along the walls, of course, and they moved forward—

But they were awfully outnumbered, and they couldn’t hold off the swarm of commoners. From what Loki could see, no one was getting hurt, but that was likely to soon change.

He pushed through the throng, barely having more luck than he had before– but he made it to the gibbet, where Stark was coughing on the ground.

Stark looked up as Loki approached, his expression still slightly wary—

But Loki just held out his hand, and Stark’s lips pulled into a grin as he grasped it firmly.

“I suppose a thanks is in order,” Stark said as Loki pulled him upright. “I know I wasn’t fair to you—”

“Don’t you dare,” Loki cut in, letting go of Stark’s hand to pull at the strap on his wrist. “We’ll talk later. Here.”

He tossed Stark the miniature crossbow, and Stark’s smile widened as he caught it.

“You’re a good shot,” he said as he strapped it back into its proper place. “And, yes. _Thank you.”_

Loki allowed himself a small smile which felt like something illicit– and then they both darted out from under the gibbet, back toward the seething fray—

And almost ran right into Thor, who was just storming down the steps.

“This way,” Loki corrected, taking Stark’s hand once again and jerking him in the opposite direction. Thor let out something of a roar mixed in with a curse, but Loki and Stark just ran—

This time, the crowd parted for them, letting the pair of them pass and closing behind them to slow Thor down. Loki hardly even noticed that their hands were still clasped. 

There was an Einherji in front of them– but Loki recognised him as the one from earlier, and while he drew his sword, he then stepped aside, letting the pair of them run straight past. Stark yelled a thanks along with a name that might have started with an _R,_ but Loki was focused on the gates, on the freedom which was so very close—

Which was torn from their grasp as the gates slammed shut before them.

Loki gasped as they skidded to a halt, then turned to the side. After all, Loki could remember the Hood’s old trick, and perhaps the Einherji had left a door to a watchtower ajar—

Indeed, that seemed to be the case, and Loki could hear Stark’s panting breaths along with his own as they turned toward it—

Only for the door to open from the inside, and then the last person Loki would have expected to see stepped through it.

Loki tensed at the sight of his father, every muscle in his body stiffening. His grip on Stark’s hand was tighter than anything, and his stomach dropped through the floor. 

Freyr stepped out from behind the king, his eyes beyond stony. 

“You will stop this,” Odin ordered, his expression harsh and unyielding– then his gaze slid over Loki’s shoulder. “_All _of you.”

The noise in the courtyard quietened, as if the whole world were coming to a grinding halt. Stark shifted a little closer, squeezed his fingers tight– and despite Loki’s anger, despite everything that had happened over the past few days, that was just enough to ground him.

And as Odin shifted his gaze back straight, Loki lifted his chin with a defiant stare. 


End file.
